The List
by AnneM.Oliver
Summary: Hermione has a list of 20 things to do & only 6 months to do them. She asks a group of former Slytherins, called 'The Vipers' to help her with her tasks, but she should know that with a den of snakes, nothing is free, for one always has to pay the piper.
1. Chapter 1 You Say Goodbye, I say Hello

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Prologue –You Say Goodbye, when I say Hello**

_You say yes, I say no,  
You say stop,  
And I say go, go, go…_

Oh no,  
You say goodbye, and I say hello.

Lennon/McCartney  


There was something immensely satisfying in taking pen to paper, numbering paper, and then writing down a proper list. It didn't matter if the list was a list of things to do, a list of goals to set, or a shopping list. Any list gave Hermione Granger the same sense of wellbeing and satisfaction when she made them, and the same sense of accomplishment and achievement when she completed them.

'Lists' had always been a way for Hermione to set goals, cope with difficult tasks, and weed out small, trivial things from important ones. And no matter what, her favourite of all lists had always been a '_to do'_ list, because she always felt she had conquered a giant hurdle when she finished 'doing' her '_to do'_ lists, no matter how big or how small.

At least, that was her philosophy so far and it was how she felt earlier that day when she sat on the side of a bed at St. Mungo's hospital, a Muggle pen in her hand, two pieces of parchment on a table in front of her, and perhaps the most important list of her short life completed in front of her.

Her new list notwithstanding, Hermione felt as if today was the first day of the rest of her life. She'd just moved into a brand new flat, she'd just quit her old job, she just said goodbye to her two best friends, she'd just left St. Mungo's hospital, and most importantly, she had just made a vow to complete every task on the most important '_to do'_ list of her life.

Now, as she placed 'the list' on her tidy desk in her new flat, next to her Muggle pen, she read it once more, carefully. Should she change number three? Was number seven doable? Were twenty items too many to consider? No matter. She wasn't going to change it now. With a smile she walked out the door of her flat to take a walk, closing the door tightly, leaving her list on the desk behind her.

While she walked, she thought about how the day had begun ... it all started with THE LIST ...

(Earlier that day)

Sitting on the side of a bed at St. Mungo's hospital, with a Muggle pen in her hand and two pieces of parchment on a table in front of her, Hermione labeled her most recent 'to do' list as such: _"Twenty things Hermione Granger wants to do before she turns twenty-seven."_ That was in six months. She sincerely hoped she wasn't aiming too high with twenty items, given the time frame. Sighing, she realized that she should probably number the first page with only sixteen numbers, and leave the last four items (numbers 17 – 20), for page two.

For one reason, she'd already told Harry and Ron about the list, but there were at least four items that she didn't want to share with them. The second reason was very simple – she didn't think she could accomplish these four items in the six months she had left to live.

Hermione Granger was going to die on her twenty-seventh birthday, on the 19th of September. This was an inevitable, unavoidable, foregone conclusion. She had been cursed with an ancient curse while on an assignment in South America during her job as an Unspeakable, as had two other who were part of her team. The other two had already died on their twenty-seventh birthdays, and she was the only one left.

Senior team member Alex McWhorter had only six weeks until his 27th birthday when they were cursed, and he died exactly on his birthday, December 4th. At the time of his death, they were all aware of the curse, but they thought it was a thing of fable, and it surely wouldn't come true. The fact that it came true was a harsh blow to Alex's young wife and two children.

Alison Gleason died on her 27th birthday, March 1st, three months after Alex. At the time of her death, several Curse Breakers and fellow Unspeakables were already working on finding a 'cure' for the curse. They didn't find it fast enough to give comfort to Alison's parents and four sisters.

That left the only remaining member from their team, Hermione Granger, alive. That also left her only six months to live.

Although every available Curse Breaker, Auror, Unspeakable, and even Healer at St. Mungo's had been assigned to find an anti-curse since the deaths of Alison and Alex, so far, none had been found. Therefore, Hermione decided something. She wasn't going to live the next six months as if she were dying. No. She was going to live them exactly as she should live them…as if she were living.

For that reason, as she sat in a bed at St. Mungo's making her '_to do'_ list, she also made two vows. One, this would be her very last list, ever. Two, she would do everything in her power to accomplish every single item or task on the list, no matter what. No matter how silly, how mundane, how scary, how depraved. She had six months to live, so she was going to make them count.

Numbering her first sheet of paper with numbers 1 through 16, right after she wrote the title, she then pushed it to the side, leaving it temporarily blank to concentrate on the second paper. Because really, the four items she wanted to put on it were the easiest, but also the four she knew she wouldn't be able to complete. Still, she wanted to write them down, even if this second list was never accomplished – it still mattered, if only for herself.

These four items were things that mattered secretly to most women, whether they ever admitted it or not. She wrote out the numbers - 17 through 20 - and then quickly jotted down the things that she now knew she would never have, but had always wanted.

_17 – Have a child someday. I would like to have more than one, but I won't be selfish. One will do._

18 – Find a man who will love me for me, and whom I can love for him, and then be in love together. (How poetic.)

19 – Even though I'm not the sort to dream of 'dream weddings', I'd like to have the wedding of my dreams. (Autumn leaves, outside, perfect weather, etc.)

20 – Live to be a very old woman. (AKA - Find a cure for the curse that will supposedly kill me in six months, because really, who wants to die in six months?)

Reading over the short list rapidly, she almost balled it in her fist and tossed it in the rubbish bin, but thought against it. Deciding to keep it, she folded this list and placed it inside the book by her leg. Just because the things on this list were unobtainable didn't mean she didn't want to keep the list. Besides, no one would ever see this list but her. She would make sure of that, because she didn't want a single person to ever feel sorry for her, or pity her because of her situation.

That's why she drew the parchment back out from the book and tapped it with her wand. The list would disappear on Sept 19th.

Just like her.

Next, she started writing the first part of the list, numbers 1 through 16, stopping and starting, removing certain items altogether, taking her time with some, others coming to her quickly. When she was done, she felt the supreme sense of contentment that she always felt when she had made a list of things to do. Now her life had order. Now she could go about with the task of living! She could only imagine how wonderful it would feel to tick off each item when she had completed them!

Biting her lip, she read the list a second time and laughed at a few of her items.

"What's so funny?" Harry asked from the other side of the room.

"You should see what I put down for number 14," she said with a smile. "It's just the funniest thing. If I can do nothing else but it, I'd be happy."

"How many things are on your list?" he asked, removing his glasses and rubbing his tired eyes with one hand.

With a smile still on her face, she looked up and started to answer, but then she saw how weary he looked. Not just weary, but exhausted and sad. Looking toward the window, she saw Ron. He looked much the same.

"Let's forget my list for now," she decided.

Twenty items on two pieces of parchment. If she had more time, she could probably think of twenty more items to put on her list. Nevertheless, she didn't have more time. She didn't have more time to add to her list, because Harry and Ron were both leaving for Peru tonight, and she didn't have more time to execute the things on her list either.

She glanced at the list one last time (two pages long), then placed the pages together, folding them in half, then in half again, and placed them inside her favourite book, To Kill a Mockingbird, and sat the book beside her leg on the bed. She pushed the table she was using away from the bed and smiled a sad, wistful smile. Goodness, she'd be happy to accomplish even half of the things on her list before she turned twenty-seven in six months.

However, in her heart of hearts she knew she'd never fulfill numbers 17 through 20, even if she had a year to finish her list. She might not fulfill those items even if she had a lifetime.

Except, she didn't have a lifetime. She only had six months.

She never imagined that her life would turn out like this. Never a 'live in a moment' type of person, she was a 'planner.' A maker of 'lists' and a planner of 'plans,' she was never one to live off the cuff, do anything spontaneous, or 'just because.' She always carefully planned and mapped out every course of her life, studying every aspect, every angle, and every solution. Each and every hour of every day was meticulously planned, thought out, and considered before it was lived.

In addition, she had always been a master list maker. She made pro/con lists before she bought something important or made an important decision. She made grocery lists before she went to the market, even if she only needed three items. She made lists of books she wanted to read before she went to the bookstore. She even made a list of items she wanted to pack for a vacation a week before the vacation. Then she would still pack two days early, only to double check her suitcase the night before, and the day of, and well…that was the way of things. Hermione Granger was a person who lived an orderly, list-filled life.

Well…No more. Every moment of every day had always been carefully planned up until now, but the next six months would be different. No longer would she be ruled by watches, calendars, or most importantly, by lists.

Wait that was a bit of a lie wasn't it. She was still ruled by one list, her 'to do' list and one calendar, exactly six months long.

No matter, as her new axiom was to live life to its fullest for the next six months and to complete as many things on her list as she could. Yes, she realized that her new mantra sounded eerily like her old one…speaking of lists, timelines, calendars. However, this time, although she was still being ruled by a list and calendar, it wasn't of her own choice. This list was different from any she had ever made before, and this new timeline wasn't of her own making. Fate was a fickle thing. Ironic, almost.

For the next six months, there was only one list that mattered, and it was 'The List.'

Finally, Harry, who had come to sit upon the other side of the bed asked, "Can I see the final list now?"

She handed him the book containing the list, but quickly drew out the second page. He opened the book; read the list once, made a funny sound deep in his throat when he was done, handed the list to Ron, then turned back to her. He smiled. She thought the smile seemed false, sad, almost forced.

Taking the book from his hand, she stuffed the second page of the list back inside the pages of the book. Brightly she said, "Remember Harry, you promised me you wouldn't be sad. It's your last night here with me, and that's of your own making, so let's not spoil that."

Standing from the bed, he mocked, "Remember Hermione, I'm a grown man, and you no longer get to boss me around and tell me what to do."

"Why ever not?" she teased. "I've been telling you what to do for most of our lives. I might as well tell you what to do for the remainder of mine. I might even put that on my list…Number 21: Boss Harry Potter around for the rest of my life, or for six months, whichever comes first."

That comment made her former boyfriend, Ron Weasley, flinch as he stood by a long window at the other end of the room. He too had read the list, but just barely. He skimmed over it once more as it dangled from his hand, made a smart comment, "This is stupid," then handed the list back to her, right before he went back to stare out the long window. He had been doing that for the last two hours.

Finally, he said for the tenth time that day, "There must be something that can be done!" He looked beseechingly toward Harry, not Hermione. "I mean, bloody hell, there must be something!"

"If there is," she began, answering for Harry, "I'm sure you two will find it. Goodness knows I've already wasted four months looking for the answer, and I'm not going to waste six more." She took the list from Ron's hand and slipped the parchment back inside the book for safekeeping.

Ron turned back toward the window, a stern look upon his face. Leaving the book on the bed, Hermione stood to join him. Standing beside him with her arm around his waist, she said softly, "The Healers, the Unspeakables, and the Curse Breakers, as well as you, Harry and I, have all tried to figure out a way to break this curse for the last few months. No one has come up with a solution so far, Ron. I think we have to face the facts. I have until my birthday on September 19th, and then my life is over."

"That gives me only six months more, and I don't want to squander a moment of it. I watched my mother and father both waste the last moments of their lives when they were dying, and I won't do that. I have a choice, where they didn't. It's not as if I'm sick, as they were. I'm well. I'm merely cursed. So I need to take advantage of the fact that I'm well, I'm healthy, and I have six good months to get in as much living as I can, and to do as much as I want to do. Please, try to understand."

She turned to face Harry, who was still at the opposite end of the room. "That's why I need my best friends here with me during my last six months. Please, don't go away. Don't go to Peru. We already looked for a way to break the curse and couldn't find anything. Stay here with me."

Harry glared at her, and then said, "No. You may have given up on finding a way to break this curse, but I haven't. You go on and live the next six months as if you don't have a care in the world. As if you don't have only have six months to live. Go on and complete your list, but Ron and I are going to South America. We're going back to that archeology site with Charlie and Bill, and we're going to find out just why you were cursed in the first place and how to break the curse."

He turned around and walked out of the small room.

Ron placed a hand on her arm to bring her attention back to him. "Let's get you out of St. Mungo's and into your new flat so that Harry and I can get on our way. He's anxious to go, that's all."

She smiled weakly. "And I'm anxious to start my list, which I can't do here at St. Mungo's, so you're right. Let's get me out of here and moved into my new flat. I have a list to complete."

**Chapter One – Mean Mr. Mustard**

_Mean Mr. Mustard sleeps in the park,  
Shaves in the dark, trying to save paper,  
Sleeps in a hole in the road,  
Saving up to buy him some clothes,  
Keeps a ten-bob note up his nose,  
Such a mean old man._

Lennon/McCartney  


A piece of white parchment lay on the top of the smooth, wooden desk, next to a row of Muggle pens and magical quills, just right to an antique inkwell. Folded into fourths, (folded over half, and then half again) it stood out on the otherwise neat desk in the corner of the woman's neat, but tiny fourth floor flat, at the top of the townhouse.

The man walking in front of the desk picked up the piece of white parchment and fingered the smooth paper over and over again while he contemplated whether or not he should read it, or place it back on the desk unopened. He opted to read it. First, he looked around the small room to be sure that no one was watching, even though he knew he was the only occupant in the room. The woman, who had just moved in that day, was at the Ministry saying goodbye to her two stupid best friends who were leaving for South America.

After ascertaining that he was, in fact, quite alone, he sat down in a chair adjacent to the neat desk where he found the private looking piece of parchment. He then unfolded it once, then twice, and slowly and surely, he read it.

He read it again.

It was a list. Not an ordinary list, such as a shopping list, a list of people to invite to a party, or a list of places one wished to visit on a holiday. It was a list of things to do, places to go, and things to accomplish. Beyond that, it was a list made by a woman whom the man held in high regard, although few knew of that fact, especially the woman.

This list had to be a joke. She had to know that either he or one of his friends might happen upon it and read it. That was why she wrote it. She wanted to have a good laugh at whatever poor sap read the damn thing.

But then again, she'd have no reason to know that he or any of the rest of them would be up here looking among her things. This had to be sincere, even if a few of the things on this list DID seem out of character for this woman. Still, he couldn't fathom why the woman would make such a superficial list. Surely she had already accomplished most of the sixteen things on this list entitled, _"Twenty things Hermione Granger wants to do before she turns twenty-seven."  
_  
Wait. Twenty things? But there were only sixteen things on this list. He turned the piece of parchment over, but the backside was empty. At the bottom of the page, written in her tidy cursive were the words, 'go to page two.' Where the hell was page two?

The man looked all around the desk for 'page two,' but found nothing but some silly Muggle book, which was sitting under the list. He felt slightly bristled by the fact that he was reading an incomplete list, but shrugged and decided to read the list for the third time.

_Twenty things Hermione Granger wants to do before she turns twenty-seven_

1 – Play Quidditch with the boys during their Sunday afternoon game, even though I'm a terrible flyer, even though I hate the game, and even though I'm afraid of heights. (Yes, I want to have fun, too.)

2 – Learn to drive a Muggle motorbike.

3 – Learn to play poker, and then play at a wizard's gentleman's club and win, even if I have to cheat.

4 – Conquer my fear of clowns. (~shivers~ ugh – clowns)

5 – Learn to cook one really nice French meal, and then share it with someone important, someplace romantic. (The Eiffel Tower would do.)

6 – Swim with the sharks.

7 – Climb a mountain.

8 – Sing in front of an audience and then have an encore (ENCORE! ENCORE!) Or else if not sing, aim lower and learn to whistle.

9 – Have one of my short stories, poems or essays published. In other words, see my name in print.

10 – Be in a real wizard's duel, but for sport, not for life or limb (I've been in those enough in my life) and have FUN doing it!

11 – Find out what all those former Slytherins do at their exclusive and elusive 'Viper's Den' meetings, and then become the first female and the first Gryffindor to join, no matter how reprehensible or corrupt the club might be!

12 – Learn to waltz and then put it to practical use by dressing up in a ball gown and going out for a night of dancing, ala Audrey Hepburn… "I could have danced all night…"

13 – Become an Animagus.

14 – Give Lucius Malfoy a haircut without him knowing it.

15 – Get totally pissed for once in my life, without feeling sick or guilty about it.

16 – Walk around Hogwarts at night, quiet as a ghost. Explore every nook and cranny, and not get caught.  
  
The list ended there, even though the last item was only number 16 out of 20. The man looked one last time for a second page, but he still couldn't find one.

He started to put the list back where he found it, when he got a dastardly thought. According to this list, little Miss Know-it-all apparently already knew all about their secret club, the Viper's Den, so why shouldn't the members of the Viper's Den know all about this list? He would copy this list and take it to their next meeting. Most of the members of the club had been complaining of an endless array of ennui as of late, and had wanted something more to do with their time than the regular old business of women, drinking and gambling. This list of Granger's should snap them all right out of their tedium! It would give them all something to do, and it would help Granger as well.

It was a win-win situation. The members of the Viper's Den were going to help Hermione Granger complete her list of 16 (possibly 20) things before her 27th birthday, but she'd have to pay the price. Yes indeed, she'd have to pay the price, because a den of snakes never did anything for free.


	2. Chapter 2 Here Comes the Sun

**All characters belong to JK Rowling**

**Chapter 2 – Here Comes the Sun**

Draco Malfoy walked into the large townhouse he shared with his friend Theodore Nott and he shouted out, "Honey, I'm home."

Throwing his wet overcoat down upon the parquet floor of the large entryway, he shook raindrops out his blond hair even as he walked into the formal living room to his left. White sofas, glass and chrome tables, and a large, impressive marble fireplace greeted him. Nevertheless, aside from the ugly modern artwork upon the walls, there was no one around.

Walking over to a sideboard, he poured himself three fingers of scotch and began walking from room to room, calling out, "Seriously, is there anyone in this bloody place?"

He walked further into the long, four-story house, only to hear someone call his name from the billiard room on the second floor. "Up here, Malfoy, up here."

Running up the stairs, sloshing scotch on the floor as he did, he came upon a sight he hadn't expected to see that evening in his very own home, and in the billiard room.

All five members of the Viper's Den were there to meet him.

"Hello, mates, what's going on, did someone die?" Draco asked.

He stepped across the threshold and noticed Blaise Zabini sitting at the end of the sofa, which was up against the dark paneled wall. Blaise said, "No one's died yet, but if Theo finds out you left your wet raincoat on the foyer floor again, I have the distinct feeling there'll be a murder tonight."

"Go on with you," Draco complained. "Who are you, my mother?"

"No. Not nearly as pale, nor as attracted to Lucius, thank goodness," Blaise laughed.

Marcus Flint, another mate of his, was lounging against the pool table. "Malfoy's theory on that is that's what House Elves are for. Right, Malfoy?"

A third friend, Adrian Pucey, was sitting atop the room's bar, swinging his legs back and forth. The oldest of their group, he was often seen as the unofficial leader. But for now, he was keeping quiet.

Draco placed his now empty glass on the felt of the pool table and said, "Where is Nott? Is there a reason we've all been called here tonight? It's not time for our weekly meeting."

Theo walked into the room at that moment. He picked up the glass that Draco left on the pool table, rolled his eyes, set it by Adrian's legs on the bar, and said, "Yes, there's a reason. The thing I'd like to know is why you're late. The other gents got here on time, and you didn't, and you actually live here. For another thing, you're the only one who doesn't even have a job to keep him late, yet you're always the one who's late for everything."

"Hear, hear," Adrian said with a grin.

"Bang out of line," Marcus rejoined. "Being Draco Malfoy is a full-time job."

Theo banged on Marcus' leg and said, "Off the felt, Flint. Find somewhere else to park your muscled arse."

"And being a priss is a full-time job for Theo Nott," Marcus laughed, jumping off the table and walking over to the bar to pour himself a firewhiskey.

"Hear, hear," Adrian said again, with another laugh.

Marcus jumped up beside Adrian, drink in hand, and asked Draco, "Why _were_ you late to your own house, Malfoy?"

"Couldn't be helped," Malfoy returned, sitting on the other end of the couch next to Blaise.

"Mummy kept you too long at tea, did she?" he joked.

"No, your mummy kept me too long in bed," Draco deadpanned.

Marcus gave Draco a rude hand gesture, but then laughed it off, as they were all apt to do. This was the way of things with this tight-knit group of friends. All friends since childhood, they could rib and tease each other, joke around, call each other names of all sorts, but when push came to shove, there was no group closer.

Several years ago, Adrian, the oldest of the group, (and therefore, in his mind, the wisest) decided that seeing as they all hung around each other so often and since they were all constantly doing things for each other (both altruistically and selfishly) that they should form a sort of club…an exclusive club.

They decided to call their club the Viper's Den. For one thing, they wanted it to sound as if their club was an actual place, even though it wasn't. That way, if anyone got wind of it, they would think the lads were going to an actual club instead of wasting their time hanging out at each other's homes. And the only prerequisites to joining were that a person had to be a former Slytherin and they had to be one of the five people in this room.

They even came up with a list of ten simple rules for their members.

**The Rules of the Viper's Den -**

1 – Be a male

2 – Be a former Slytherin

3 – Don't tell anyone it isn't a real Club

4 – Don't ever talk about boring things, like your work or personal life, during club meetings

5 – Never expose fellow Viper's secrets

6 – Snakes before Skanks

7 – If it doesn't hurt anyone, then it's okay to do, even if it's morally wrong

8 – If a fellow Viper needs you, no matter when, no matter where, no matter why, you see to your fellow snake

9 – Never leave rings on Theo's furniture

10 - Above all else, have fun

The purpose of the club was simple. It was a place, (though not physically) where the five friends could meet each week and talk about things, play games, eat good food, drink and be merry. They also picked one project every six months to be the special club project. This made them feel as if they weren't resting on their laurels, and as if they were truly doing something good with their time…even though past projects included painting Adrian's den and going to all of Marcus Flint's away Quidditch matches.

They would tell their family and other friends that their 'club' was doing some great charity work and that the projects they picked were for the good of their fellow wizards, but usually it was only good for the five members.

Really, the club was an excuse to continue to muck about with their mates and not feel guilty over it. If Draco's mother told him she had a blind date lined up for him on a Saturday night, he could say, truthfully, "Sorry, Mother, I'm going to my club tonight. We've just started a project concerning orphans. Think of the poor orphans, Mother." After all, everyone knew Blaise Zabini's father was dead, and he wished his mother was as well.

If Marcus Flint's girlfriend complained that he didn't spend enough time with her, he could say, "But sweetheart, you know I have to be out of town with the club members. We're taking an underprivileged lad to a museum." Then he would feel no guilt whatsoever the next time they all went out of town to a Quidditch match, because he never had any galleons in his pocket (he was the underprivileged one) and the museum was the ancient stadium where his favourite team played.

Overall, it was a win – win situation for everyone involved, only lately, every one of them had begun to feel as if perhaps there could be something a bit MORE to their club.

This begged Adrian to ask, "You've called us altogether, Nott, a week earlier than our normal meeting. So I must ask the question, why?"

"I didn't call us all together tonight," Theo supplied. "I was under the impression that our next meeting was Thursday night, at your house."

"I got an Owl from Malfoy," Blaise replied, "It said the meeting was moved here, and moved up two days."

Marcus shook his head and interrupted, "My Owl was from Adrian, and it said the meeting for his house was a no go, and he was changing it to here, for tonight."

All at once, everyone began to speak, contradicting each other and interrupting each other. "Gentlemen, gentlemen, please," Adrian interrupted, speaking the loudest to gain the floor. "I don't suppose any of us brought our Owls with us, did we?"

"Why would we bring our bloody birds to a Viper's Den meeting?" Malfoy asked. He looked at Theo. "Our Owls are already here, aren't they?"

Theo merely shook his head. "I think he meant, did any of us bring our communiqués with us, and no, I threw mine in the rubbish after I read it, but mine clearly stated that Blaise wanted us all to meet here tonight."

"Fine, I suppose we can safely assume all our messages seemed to be from a different source," Adrian supplied. He jumped off the bar. "This troubles me a bit. No one should even know about our little den of snakes, aside from each other. Yet let's suppose for a moment that one other person does know, who would want us all to gather together tonight, and why?"

"Maybe someone wants to kill all the best looking Wizards in the world in one felled swipe, so they gathered us all in one room," Malfoy joked.

"If they had wanted to gather all the smartest wizards together, you'd been safe," Theo waned.

Draco blinked twice, and then said, "And if they had wanted ones with wands stuck up their arses, you'd be their man."

"Good one, Malfoy," Flint said. "But let's get back to this. I don't even care who called us together, I'm more concerned with the why. The Owl to me said it was time to pick our next bi-yearly charitable project, but it's not time for that yet, is it?"

Blaise crossed his legs at the ankles and from his place on the sofa said, "Well, let's see, the last charitable project we did was six months ago, so yes, it's time for a new one." He rolled his eyes. "And I for one would like to pick something better this time than the last time. Something less boring and mundane. I'm tired of fake projects. Let's do something real."

"I'm all tingling inside," Theo said, sarcastically. "Blaise wants to do some good work. Is being a Gryffindor far behind?"

"Hear, hear," Draco said, stealing Adrian's favourite line. He held up his empty glass. "I'll drink to that one. Why…that can be our next project. Let's keep Blaise from becoming too self-righteous and Gryffindorish."

"Gryffindorish?" Adrian asked.

Draco sneered, "Look it up in the dictionary, I bet it's a word. I bet when St. Potter saved the Wizarding World they even gave him his own theme park. OH, wait, that's what we can do. Let's write our own dictionary to help other Slytherins be able to understand words that normally only Gryffindorks understand."

"We don't have time for tripe like that. Some of us have real jobs, Malfoy," Marcus waned. "And I know we aren't supposed to discuss our jobs during our meeting, but I came from mine for this, and unlike Malfoy, who has an endless stream of money coming in from his mummy and daddy, I'd like to conclude this meeting before the stroke of midnight, so I can get back to it."

"So, I was saying," Adrian continued, "as long as we're all here, no matter how we came to be here, for I know one of you brought us all here tonight even if you won't admit it, but as long as we're here, let's go ahead and pick our next project."

"Right," Theo agreed. "As always, we're all write down what we think is the most worthwhile…"

"Most entertaining!" Draco interrupted.

"Most rewarding!" Blaise interjected.

"Most fun!" Marcus laughed.

"…worthwhile project, anonymously, of course, and then we'll all vote on the project we most want to do," Theo concluded while passing out pieces of parchment and quills.

After they all wrote down their 'ideal project,' Adrian read them all aloud. One in particular shocked a few members of the club, but after much debating, arguing back and forth, and then a secret ballot, it was decided that the charitable project the Viper's Den would do next was help with Hermione Granger's to do list.

No one would admit to it being his initial choice, although in the end, everyone thought it was a splendid idea. The sixteen item 'to do list' was even reproduced, verbatim, for everyone to peruse. The members laughed at some of the items, scoffed at some of the others, but most of all, they all wanted to know one thing…WHY?

In the end, they decided it didn't matter. They would help Hermione Granger complete her list, with each member picking several items on the list that they would help her complete. Since she lived in the attic flat over Theo and Draco's house now, it was decided that one of them would inform her of their decision that very night.

Hence, the first man stood tall, found courage he didn't know he had, went outside and then up the long flight of stairs in the back of the townhouse to Hermione Granger's flat, and knocked on the door. He wasn't sure what he was going to say to her yet, but he was good with words and women. Something would come to him.

The second man thought the first man was a terrible choice for the job of talking to Granger about all of this, but kept quiet. He knew he didn't want to be the one to tell her. The truth was, Hermione Granger had always rather scared him. Still, he was very curious about this list.

Another man decided he didn't care one way or another, as long as they had some fun doing some of the things on her list, and as long as he could garner some sort of favour from her. Something about the little Gryffindor always made him a bit randy.

A fourth man had to remain aloof and collected, because he was the one who stole the list and manipulated his fellow Viper's Den members to come tonight. His gentle persuasion was what made them pick her cause in the end, quite cleverly, if he did say so himself. His reason for wanting to help her was his own, and would always remain his own.

And the fifth man sat by quietly and considered everything in stride. Though shocked that his club was presented with this outrageous list of hers, he was one of only a few people who knew the reason Hermione Granger made her list of things to do before she turned twenty-seven. He knew she was cursed to die.

More than anything, he wanted one of two things: to make sure she got in a hell of a lot of living in her last six months or else to find a way to make sure she lived a hell of a lot longer than six months. After all, it was his fault that she and her fellow team members were cursed in the first place.

* * *

_Thanks to my beta Eanne for getting chapters 2 & 3 back to me in 2 days!_

_Thanks for reading and reviewing!_

_Can you guess who is who up above?_


	3. Chapter 3 A Little Help From my Friends

**All characters belong to JK Rowling**

**Chapter 3 – With A Little Help from My Friends**

Around midnight, Draco Malfoy knocked on the outside door of Hermione Granger's fourth floor flat. She looked out the window, saw it was he at the door, opened it, sighed, said, "Oh, it's you," and then closed it again as a joke. She waited three seconds (exactly) then opened it again and said, "Hello, Malfoy. What may I do for you this evening?"

He gave her the haughtiest glare he could muster, proceeded to place his rather large, shiny black shoe into the small space between the door and the jamb, maneuvered his body inside, and said, "It's not what you can do for me, Granger dear, but rather what I can do for you. May I come in?" Of course, he was already inside by this time.

"It wouldn't matter if I said no, as you're already here."

"You can always say 'no,' but I probably wouldn't listen." He looked around her small flat and said, "I haven't been up here since you've moved in; you've made the place look rather comfortable. It's small up here, but…well, nice."

She made a funny face. "Nice? You think my flat is nice? What do you want, Malfoy? Did you come up here to give me decorating advice?"

"Can't a bloke give a girl a compliment without her going bonkers on him?" He sat down on her sofa and patted the space next to him, for her to join him.

"Most men can, but I'm not sure you're capable of it," she sneered. "Please, get to your point. It's late and I was about to go to bed."

"Don't lie. You weren't going to bed. You're not even dressed for it yet. Lying is an unbecoming trait for a former little Gryffindor. Little Gryffindors should always tell the truth, or they might get kicked out of the former little Gryffindor club," he said with a wicked smile. "I bet Harry Potter's rolling over in his grave at the thought of you lying."

"Harry Potter's not dead, you prat," she snapped, fighting the urge to hit him upside the head.

"A man can dream. Never mind all of that. Just come and sit next to me. I need to talk with you, you little liar who claims she's ready for bed, yet she's dressed to do some sort of housework. Or perhaps you got a new job as a maid, or you're about to go work in the garden, though it's awful late for that. I've got it. You're going for a run, right? Forget exercise. You look wonderful without it. Sit down." He patted the space next to him again, harder this time.

Wearily, she did sit next to him, but she complained, "I'm not lying. I am ready for bed." She looked down at her attire. She had on a grey t-shirt and a pair of black cotton yoga pants, as well as her favourite brown jumper wrapped around her to keep her warm.

"You sleep in that?" He pointed toward her clothing, while he made a face of complete and utter disgust. He quivered involuntarily at the thought of anyone wearing such attire anywhere.

"Yes." She looked down again.

"That jumper is hideous. It should be taken in the back garden and given a proper burial."

"But it's my favourite jumper! I wear it almost all the time. It's warm, it's comfortable, and it used to belong to Ron."

"Sweet Merlin, now I insist you take it off, for I refuse to sit next to you in that thing." He put his hands on the front of the sweater and tried to take it off her shoulders.

Batting his hands away, she yelped, "Stop manhandling me, before I call the authorities."

Lifting his hands from her sweater, he let them slip down her arms slowly, causing her to shiver slightly as he did. "Fine, stay in your 'supposed night clothes'."

She rubbed her arms up and down where his hands had been, because she couldn't believe that his touch had made her shiver. This was Malfoy! Looking up at him, she asked, "What do you sleep in?"

"My bed and my birthday suit," he smiled.

"Well I sleep in this."

"You should wear nice negligees and peignoir sets. If you did, you might have a bedmate. I'm just saying." He held up his hands in a mock truce sign.

"Only old ladies wear peignoir sets," she laughed.

"I've seen pretty sexy peignoir sets, and they've not been on old ladies, Granger dear," he said with a wink. "The ones I've seen are lacy, flimsy, little transparent numbers, and have very little material, usually in the colour of red or black. I'll get you a set for your next birthday."

She frowned at that comment. "You do that. Now, why are you here? We're getting woefully off track," she reminded him.

Before he answered, he reached around and removed the hair clip from the back of her hair, so that it tumbled down to her shoulders. She reached up and protested with words such as, "Hey!" and, "Stop that!" but he didn't stop. He placed the clip on the trunk serving as her coffee table and then used both his hands to fan her hair out on her shoulders.

"Your hair is beautiful down. It's long and luscious and it's a shame to put it up so that it looks like a bird's nest," he complained, his hands still playing in its silky strands.

It was a warm, walnut brown, with honey highlights. She was a very pretty woman up close. Prettier than he ever remembered. Sure, she was still a spitfire, know-it-all little swot who dressed like a spinster who was going to do janitorial work, but she had a cute nose with a few freckles on top, beautiful eyes, and a body that was made to be worshipped. Even if she did try to hide it under hideous clothing.

It was going to be a pleasure to help her with her list, and it was going to be more than a pleasure to obtain payment for that help.

After a moment more he said, "We're going to help you, we are, and it's going to be a pleasure." His hand moved from her hair to her brown sweater. He rubbed the material between his thumb and forefinger and said, "Although, I refuse to help you until you bury this monster in the back yard."

"Help me with what?" she asked, confused.

Then he explained. Everything.

At first, she was confused, then indignant, then incensed. "How did you and your motley crew know about my list?"

"How did you know about the Viper's Den?" he countered, reaching back over to pull on a strand of her hair again. She removed it from his hand posthaste.

"That's a secret," she said, with a slight smile.

"So is this," he shared. "The point is you want to do these things in six months, right? That's a tall order, and some of these things will be quite hard to do. Especially the cutting of Lucius Malfoy's hair." He smirked at her.

She laughed. "I don't know why I put that one on the list. I just always thought he might be handsomer with it shorter."

He shook his head, mumbled under his breath, "Crazy woman," and then said, "As I was saying, it would be easier if you had help. There are five of us, and we can divvy up the list, each taking something that we excel in and can teach you to do, and that way you can complete your list in the six months you have left."

She sat up, ramrod straight. Did he know? "The six months I have left?" she repeated.

"Yes, until your birthday. Didn't you want to have your little list completed by then, although I don't know what the hurry is? Women are so funny about their age." He looked down at his watch. "Give me an answer quick, Granger. I have a date in twenty minutes."

Hermione looked at the clock over her mantle. "It's almost midnight."

"And?" he asked lazily.

She was quiet for a moment, as she considered his offer. "I have to ask why you want to help me."

"There's nothing like getting to the heart of the matter, aye?" he replied. A small smile formed on his lips. His hand moved from the back of the couch to her shoulder, where it stayed, because he liked touching her, and he had a feeling that she liked it, too, even if she didn't know it yet.

"Here's the deal," he began, as he began to move his hand slowly, rubbing her neck. "We're bored, and you're a means to an end. You'll end our boredom and give us something to do for six months, that's all there is to it."

"Again, why?" She wasn't buying that as the only reason. She also wasn't sure why his hand on her neck made her want to melt like butter on a piece of bread. He leaned closer. He was so close that she could smell his cologne and feel his breath as it fanned across her cheek.

"I for one would love to have you indebted to me," he answered truthfully.

"You mean I'd owe all of you," she clarified. Now she knew why he was flirting openly with her, and she knew exactly what he wanted. She pulled his hand away from her neck and held his wrist tightly in her grasp.

Looking down at his captured wrist in her hand, then back in her eyes, he answered, "In a fashion, yes. Have you ever heard of the Muggle fable of the Pied Piper? He took money from a village to rid it of snakes, but when they refused to pay up, he brought all the snakes back – henceforth, there's a little saying that goes something like, _paying the piper_. You'd have to pay the piper, Granger, if you want help from this den of snakes, but the payment won't be too bad. I promise."

He easily wrenched his hand from her wrist. Then he took both hands and quickly peeled her ugly sweater right off her shoulders, before she had a chance to protest. She looked shocked, surprised, and slightly embarrassed. Her breath quickened, her chest heaving up and down. Throwing the opposing item to the floor, his gaze traveled from her face, to her breasts, down to her legs, and then back up. Even covered up in ugly clothing she was beautiful. She blushed boldly, which he found appealing.

He moved so close that they were touching. In his most seductive voice, he explained, "You'd owe each of us one favour of our choice. I think that's bloody fair, as we'd be helping you do sixteen, or perhaps twenty items, if you find that second list, and all you have to do in return are five little favours for five little snakes. I already know what my favour is going to be, and don't worry, you'd have to be agreeable to whatever it is we ask of you. I know I for one have never had to take a woman by force."

She narrowed her gaze, leaned away, and whispered, "You'd want sex in exchanged for helping me." She placed her hands upon his chest.

He leaned forward, placed his arms around her body, and whispered back, "I don't know about the others, but as for me, yes, I'd want to be with you, one night, just you and I, all night long. It's something I've always imagined." When he saw her shocked expression, he laughed and then said, "Why are we whispering? No one's here but us."

In his normal tone, he finished, "Everyone will ask for something different from you, and you can request that we keep it secret from each other, if you'd like, but you'll have to do something in exchange for waltzing lessons, music lessons, and swimming with sharks, climbing mountains, and so forth."

Hermione knew this was perfect, for she had no hope in completing the tasks on her list by herself. "Can you guarantee that we'll complete the tasks by six months?"

He began to rub his hands on her back, slowly. He moved slightly closer, which meant that he had to reach down and move her legs so that they were over his. He said, "I guarantee it." He placed one hand on her hip; the other was still rubbing the back of her neck, hair and back.

Her mouth felt dry, and she found it difficult to speak, concentrate, even to breathe with his hands on her, and with her almost on his lap. She knew she should stop this, because although she found Malfoy attractive, (who wouldn't?) he wasn't the 'snake' she liked the most. Nevertheless, she only had six months to live, and it didn't matter whom she like or whom she didn't like. She couldn't afford to pass up this offer.

"And you promise absolute secrecy? Not even talking amongst yourselves?" She would still hate for the one snake that she liked to find out that she slept with another snake.

He moved his hand around to the other side of her neck, behind her hair, and his nose moved down near her jaw. He whispered in her ear, "I promise, Granger dear." She felt a small kiss at the base of her jaw.

This was crazy! This was Malfoy! This felt nice!

He placed his hands under her arms and lifted her completely off the couch and onto his lap all the way. She felt his erection on her rear and she almost froze in shock. "Malfoy, ah, don't you have a date?" she asked. She swallowed the lump in her throat. Surely, he didn't want a down payment tonight, did he?

He was still kissing her neck and jaw. "Hmmm, date," he said between kisses.

Placing her hands on his shoulders, she decided to carrying on their conversation, though it was difficult. She asked, "Do you promise that I won't be forced to do anything I don't want to do."

Moving his hand to the front of her throat, he felt her pulse. It was rapid. She swallowed hard again, after she asked her last question. He looked up into her eyes and said, "Am I forcing you right now? No, I don't think so. I doubt anyone can ever make you do something that you don't want to do, but you have my word on that."

He was going to say more, press her, see what else she might have to say, but instead, he decided to give the Princess Gryffindor a break for the evening. He could tell she was in shock, so he lifted her from his lap (it was either that or strip her out of her 'ugly sleeping clothing' and shag her on her sofa.) Placing her back beside him on the next cushion, he said, "We'll meet tomorrow night, downstairs, 7 o'clock, to iron out the details. Shall we seal it with a kiss?" Without giving her a chance to respond, he bent his head and placed his mouth on hers.

He always wondered what it would feel like to kiss Hermione Granger's charming little mouth. Now he knew. It was better than he ever imagined. Her mouth was warm and sweet. Very sweet. Full lips, slightly fuller bottom one, fresh breath, which she inhaled in shock at his brashness. Also, because she was so shocked by his forwardness, she opened her mouth just enough that he was able to press his tongue inside to circle around her lips, touch her teeth, and finally, touch the tip of her tongue, before she retreated.

Was it the nicest kiss Draco Malfoy ever had? Not in the least. However, it would still go on his list of top ten best kisses ever, because it was Hermione Granger, because she was so shocked, and because he caught her unaware. And mostly because he managed to stand and leave without her hexing his bollocks off. Yep, overall it wasn't that bad of a kiss.

He walked out the door with a smile on his face.

Hermione remained on the couch, picked up her favourite jumper from the floor, and wondered what in the world she had gotten herself into.


	4. Chapter 4 Come Together

**All characters belong to JK Rowling**

**Chapter 4 – Come Together, Right Now, Over Me**

The next evening Hermione sat in the formal dining room of her new landlord's townhouse, at the head of the table, hands in her lap, and she was waiting patiently and anxiously for all the members of the Viper's Den to arrive. Secretly, she was slightly worried. Who were the other members? Who would help her complete which tasks? What would they want as payment for helping her with her list?

Before her was a copy of her list, as well as a new list of sorts, along with a blank piece of parchment under that. Although she made a vow to never make another list, this one was different. It was a list of things she wanted to say to the men that she was to meet tonight. It was a list of demands and promises she was going to see that they adhered to if they were going to help her complete her 'to do' list.

The blank piece of parchment was so she could make any notes she might have, just in case she agreed to this lunacy, and in case they wanted to draw up a contract, make out a chart, or write down who was going to do what. Really…a blank piece of paper could come in handy for so many reasons. For one thing, it was helpful when she wanted to do something with her hands, because she began to fold it into a small square so that she could pretend to have something to do, as a way to hide her surprise as the first few people began to file into the room.

For though she wasn't terrible surprised by the first couple of people she encountered tonight, Draco and Theo, a couple of others surprised her greatly.

She already knew Draco was a member. Draco escorted her into the house after answering the door, _and_ he offered her their services last night, so his presence here was a given.

Likewise, it was Theo's house. He was the real reason she was living here, and he was one of the reasons she knew about this secret club, although he didn't know that, so she wasn't surprised to find him here tonight either. While Draco answered the door, Theo was the one to escort her into the empty dining room to await the arrival of the others.

"Have a seat at the end of the table," he offered, standing alone, aloof, in the mouth of the room, by the doorway.

Cautiously she went to sit down. Pulling out her list and the blank piece of parchment from her bag, she asked, "How many others will be joining us tonight?"

"You'll find out soon enough, Miss Granger," he said with an aloofness that set her nerve endings on edge.

"Why do you always call me Miss Granger? It's almost as if you act as if we don't know each other. We went to school together for years. I'm living above your house," she expounded. "It's so strange."

With a small laugh he asked, "Do you think its stranger or that I'm strange?"

"Yes." She smiled.

"Then it's a mutual feeling." He looked down the hallway and then back toward her. "By the way, Miss Granger, we haven't discussed the rent yet."

"We haven't discussed much yet," she elaborated. "When Adrian told me you had a place to let, I jumped at it, but I didn't ask him about rent, or if you allowed pets, or…"

"No pets!" Theo interrupted.

Draco walked into the room. "Merlin, Granger dear," Draco said with a roll of his eyes, "are you trying to negotiate the terms of your lease tonight, of all nights? Theo's terms are simple." Draco walked up behind her, leaned his chest against the back of her chair, placed his arms around her shoulders and said into her ear, "He doesn't allow pets, loud parties, which includes orgies unfortunately, and above all other things; you must always use a coaster under your drink."

He stood up and asked, "Speaking of which, drink?"

Hermione raised one eyebrow, looked over toward Theo and said, "Sure, I'll take some water, and bring me a coaster with that."

Draco barked a loud laugh and left the room to get her water.

Theo glared at her and added, "And your rent is due the first of each month."

All Hermione could think was…my goodness, this man is almost just like me, no wonder I like him so much. She smiled and said, "You need to loosen up, Mr. Nott."

"Says the woman of tightness," Theo spat, entering the room with a frown.

"The woman of tightness? What does that even mean?" She wondered why he was frowning. It seemed he was always frowning. She didn't like it when he frowned. He frowned too much in her opinion. "That doesn't make sense, and I'm trying to do something about that, hence my to do list."

Theo made a funny noise deep in his throat at that statement. The doorbell rang at that moment and he left his place by the doorway and went to answer it.

Hermione took a deep breath and prepared herself to meet the rest of the members of the Viper's Den, placing her 'to do list' out in front of her, and folding the blank piece of parchment in half, nervously. Then she waited.

* * *

When the handsome Blaise Zabini walked in, smooth as silk, took her hand, kissed it lightly, said, "Charmed, I'm sure, darling," and then took a seat to her left, she wasn't terribly surprised to see him. He was in Slytherin along with Theo and Draco at the same time she went to school with them. It only made sense that he would be in their club. She knew very little about the good-looking black man, but she wasn't too worried about his appearance here tonight.

Marcus Flint came in next. The tall, athletic, handsome, man smiled at her from the moment he walked into the room. Laughing as he took a seat to her right he said, "This is going to be so much fun, little Gryffindor." Then he had the nerve to ruffle her hair, as if she were a child (or a dog).

The last person to enter the room was the only person who gave her pause. She really didn't expect this person to be part of this secret society. True, she learned of this secret club partly from him, although he probably didn't recall the night he revealed that to her any better than Theo did.

She also knew that Adrian Pucey was the only one here who knew 'why' she made her list, because like her, he worked as an Unspeakable at the Ministry. In fact, he was her superior, and he sent her on the mission to South America in the first place – a mission he was supposed to go on himself. If he had gone, it wouldn't have mattered, as he was already over 27 and a pureblood. For the curse that killed Alex and Alison, and which now hung like an anvil over her head was very specific: it only inflicted Muggle-borns, and it would only kill those who had not yet turned 27 years old.

As soon as he entered, she stood and said to no one in particular, "I've changed my mind. This isn't going to work. I thought I'd come here and tell you all that in person." Then with her eyes on Adrian she said, "I don't believe there will be the level of discreetness that I was anticipating, so goodbye." Her eyes didn't leave Adrian's eyes as she spoke her last sentence.

Theo watched the exchange in interest, as nothing ever escaped his notice. Draco began to protest. Blaise looked at his watch and said, "I came here for nothing." Marcus leaned back in his seat and reached for the decanter of scotch on the buffet. Theo tossed him a coaster.

Adrian said, "Wait a minute, Hermione."

Clutching the edge of the table as tightly as she could, she waited, and said, "Why? Why should I wait, Adrian? I don't have time to wait, do I?"

"Everyone, please leave us for a moment," Adrian announced.

Theo sat back in his chair and under his breath he said, "He called her Hermione," but no one heard him.

"If you need to speak to Granger in private, wouldn't it be easier for you two to leave, then to have all of us go to another room?" Draco asked.

Blaise smiled at him and said, "See, people always think you're the pretty, but dumb one, but you'll prove them wrong some day, Malfoy. Brilliant plan. Pass me the scotch, Flint."

"Use the study down the hall," Theo offered, standing once again, and holding open the door of the dining room. Hermione walked by him, and he stiffened when she did. She looked up at him and stared right into his eyes.

He thought she looked pale, waned, upset. What was she about to say to Adrian? Why did Malfoy say she was ready to go along with their plan when he talked to her last night, but unexpectedly, upon seeing Adrian, she had an abrupt change of heart?

Mostly, why did Theo care?

He watched as Adrian and Hermione walked into the study and out of sight, then he called Malfoy out to the hallway to join him. "Malfoy, get your arse out here." Draco left the dining room and joined Theo in the hall. "What's that about, do you know?"

"No clue. Perhaps she knows what we've all known all our lives, which is that Pucey's a big old stick in the mud, and she doesn't think he'll be able to help her with her list." Draco shrugged.

Theo didn't think so. "What was Granger's job at the Ministry before she quit?"

Draco shrugged once more. "I don't know. It was always a mystery. She worked some secret place, doing secret things. Father says she was probably an Unspeakable, and if that's the case, we shouldn't speak of it." Malfoy laughed at his own stupid joke.

Theo hit Draco upside the back of his head. Then he asked, "What's Pucey's job at the Ministry?"

Draco, rubbing the back of his head, leaned against the wall and thought for a moment. "You know, he's never said, has he? Flint works there though, perhaps he knows. You, Blaise and I don't work there, so we've never bothered with asking, as we've always assumed it was something boring, as all Ministry jobs tend to be. Do you suppose they worked together?"

Now it was Theo's turn to shrug, though he did it with only one shoulder, and it was feeble, at best. He didn't like this, not one bit. "You don't work anywhere, as we all keep reminding you." Then he groaned and said glumly, "He's going to ruin everything, I know it." It was important that they help Hermione complete her list. There were at least two tasks that Theo especially wanted to help her carry out.

"No," Draco disagreed, "she'll come around, no matter what. It was easy to convince her really. Very easy. Easier than I thought." Draco smiled and Theo didn't like that either.

"What did you do?" Theo had know Draco Malfoy since they were both in nappies, and he knew that look. Draco got the look when he did something naughty, but he knew he was going to get away with it.

Draco smirked and said, "I probably shouldn't tell you this, but I kissed her, and let me tell you, it was rather nice, and as I mentioned, easier than I thought. I flirted with her first, pulled her over to my lap, and then kissed her. It's odd, because she truly is like a new Granger, because the old Granger would have turned my hair green. I like this new Granger."

Theo felt like groaning again, for many reasons. He didn't want to compete against Draco for Hermione's affection. Running his hands over his eyes he asked, "Why did you do that?"

"To seal the deal. Oh hey, I did tell her though that we would all be discreet and all if she would consider our deal, so if she does, and she pays some of us back with certain favours, we have to be quiet about it all. I suppose I should have started with the other night. I shouldn't have told you that I kissed her. It was a simple kiss really, nothing to write home about, so don't tell the other fellows, all right? I don't want them to think anything about her. She's a right good girl." Malfoy nodded his head and walked back in to the dining room.

Theo exhaled a long, ragged breath that he didn't know he'd been holding, then he watched as Hermione and Adrian left the study to walk back toward him. She had her arms folded around her body and Adrian had a frown upon his face as he walked into the dining room.

"Are you leaving?" Theo asked her, assuming the worst, as they remained alone by the doorway.

"No, I'm going in there and we're going to negotiate the terms of The List." Standing in front of him she said, "Then we may have to negotiate our terms of my lease, because I rather like leaving rings on tables and things."

She said it all with a perfectly straight face, and he didn't know what to make of it all. Opening his mouth, to say something in return, she poked him in the chest and said first, "And you may find that you like it, too, Mr. Nott."

She walked past him, her hand brushing his as she walked through the door. Theo looked down at his hand, then turned and watched as she told everyone to take a seat and to listen to her, because what she had to say she was only going to say once.

Then he smiled and joined them. He decided he might like it indeed.

* * *

_This was part of chapter 3, but I chopped it off the end and made it chapter four, which means the chapter four which is now back from my beta will now be chapter five! More to read, people! I wonder what Adrian and Hermione were discussing in the study? Perhaps they were discussing Mrs. Peacock in the study, with the candlestick? (If you didn't get that joke, the problem is with me, not you, believe me.)_

_Over on Granger Enchanted, this story already has 109 reviews and twice as many hits as on this site, and I don't think that's ever happened before, where a story has had more hits and reviews on that site than on this one. I wonder why? It's okay, but I still wonder. I think everyone here thinks I'm still just a Dramione writer, maybe that's it. Well, thanks for reading!_


	5. Chapter 5 We Can Work it Out

**All characters belong to JK Rowling**

**Chapter 5 – We Can Work it Out**

Sitting around Theo's large dining room table, Hermione was amused. All of the former Slytherins were sitting around her, pulling on the piece of parchment with her list. They were arguing over which items they wanted to help her achieve, and which ones they didn't want, and all she could think was – _'this can't be real.'_

Then in the middle of all the chaos, Hermione grabbed the list from Blaise, clicked her Muggle pen, and marked off an item on her list and smiled.

Every eye turned to her.

"What did you just do?" Marcus Flint asked. "Did she just mark off something from her list?"

"I think she did," Theo agreed. "Explain yourself, sweetheart."

The fact that he called her sweetheart instead of Miss Granger made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside. "It's only that I just realized that I fulfilled one of my tasks, so I marked it off my list." She smiled in satisfaction, brought the list up to her chest and almost 'hugged' it. She loved marking things off lists!

Draco held out his hand, his fingers impatiently motioned towards himself. "Give it here. Let me see what you marked off, Granger dear. You can't just go about marking items off without consulting us. You might think you completed a task, and you might not have done it at all."

She cocked her head to the side and said, "It's my list. I think I would know if I completed a task."

"Maybe not. Give it here." He continued to make a motion with his outstretched hand.

"You're an idiot." She folded her arms in front of her.

"Hear, hear," Adrian said, as he was apt to do.

His hand still in the air, Draco moved it slowly toward Adrian, raised two fingers into a rude salute, then moved his hand back to her and demanded, "Give it to me now, Granger."

Hermione sighed but then passed the parchment to Marcus, who passed it to Draco at the end of the table. He saw that she had marked off number 11 - _**Find out what all those former Slytherins do at their exclusive and elusive 'Viper's Den' meetings, and then become the first female and the first Gryffindor to join, no matter how reprehensible or corrupt the club might be.**_

Draco laughed and showed it to the other men in the room. "See, this is what I mean, Granger dear. You've not completed this task in the least. A – You don't have the foggiest notion what we do at our regular meetings. If you think our normal meetings are made up of us sitting at Theo's table, arguing over who's going to give you waltzing lessons, you're full of shite. And number two, you haven't been asked to join our club, no matter how reprehensible or corrupt you might be. We're simply using you as our charity cause for this term."

Her smile slipped from her face. "Fine. But let me tell you something, Mr. Idiot. First, Malfoy, I'm no one's charity cause or case, and B, Mr. Brains, I realize this isn't your normal meeting." She used her wand to Accio the list back to her, then to remove the large blue check mark from beside the number 11. She folded her arms under her breasts, sat back in her chair and frowned.

Marcus threw a grape at Draco and it hit him in the eye. "Ow! That hurt, Flint."

"So then don't go hurting little Gryffindor's feelings on her first night out at the Viper's Den," he censured. "I know you used to pick on her all the time in school, but I won't allow it now, do you hear?"

Draco stood and pleaded, "I was only making a solid point, Flint!"

Theo rubbed his eyes and leaned toward Hermione. "See the harm you've caused. These two can argue for hours."

"It's not my fault!" she leveled.

"Whose fault is it?" he asked back.

"You know what?" Hermione stood, "Let's forget this, gentlemen. This isn't going to work. You've all argued amongst yourselves for the last half an hour and none of you will even listen to my lists of demands."

"Speaking of," Theo said, standing along with her, only to push on her shoulders and force her back in her seat. "How dare you make a list of demands? We're doing this for you, and the only thing you need to do is show up when we're available, and then pay us back when we want our due. Case closed."

She opened her mouth to protest, but Adrian spoke. "Listen, Hermione, we'll agree to whatever terms you want. We'll agree officially to your list of demands, right now, sight unseen. Then, we'll go about, without arguing, and each of us will pick his first thing to help you with. Does that sound amendable?"

"Who died and appointed you lord and saviour?" Draco asked the other man, pouting from his seat. "Last time I looked, Harry Potter had already applied for and accepted that job, albeit he's doing a poor job of it."

Hermione stuck her tongue out at Draco. Draco smiled at her and said, "Come over here and do that again, but stick it down my throat like you did last night when you kissed me to seal the deal."

She threw her hands in the air, stood up again and said, "See, this won't work! He promised not to tell anyone about that and then he just told everyone about it!"

"SIT DOWN!" Four men said to her at once, excluding Draco. Draco stood up, pointed at her, and laughed smugly, which caused the four men to turn to him, although not one of them said anything to him. Still, he understood they weren't amused by his actions, so he stopped laughing and sat down.

Then Blaise said, "Malfoy, if you did kiss her last night, it wasn't very gentlemanly of you to discuss it tonight. Bang out of line, I say. I'm going to make an official Viper's Den amendment to Granger's list of demands, whatever they are. Point one, any affectionate exchanges between Vipers and the little cub will be held in the strictest confidence, unless discussed by her and her alone. No Viper-to-Viper exchange. Everyone agreed?"

The other four men held up their right hands at the same time and said, "Agreed."

"That's on my list, actually," Hermione began, perusing her list of demands.

Theo grabbed her list and read it quickly, then said, "Okay, fine, another point here is that none of us can announce the fact that we're helping her with a 'to do' list until September 20th." He frowned after he read that. "September 20th? Why September 20th? The day after your twenty-seventh birthday?"

Hermione looked quickly to Adrian, who looked away, and then glanced back to Theo. "Yes. No discussing it with your families, friends, or even my friends. Even if we might need them to help with some of the items, we can't let them know you're all helping me, because they won't understand."

"Potter and Weasley won't approve, that's what she means," Draco declared. "Fine, no talking about it until after your birthday, although they'll be just as peeved then, but whatever. Everyone agree?"

All five men raised their hands again and said, "Agreed."

"Also," Adrian announced, "we can only ask for one thing each as form of payment from Hermione, and she has the right to deny us that payment, if she so desires, at which time we must ask for something else. Whatever she decides goes. And like the other thing, we can't discuss this with each other. It can only be discussed at her discretion."

Again, everyone raised their right hands and said, "Agreed," aloud.

Hermione added, "And this too must be kept secret until after my birthday. Come the twentieth of September, you can talk about me to your hearts content."

Everyone looked at each other, strangely, but then slowly they all raised their hands and said, "Agreed."

"And the last thing is, if I decide there's something that I just can't complete, because it's too awkward, or I'm scared, or whatever the reason, I don't have to do it." She raised her chin a bit, to show that she was serious about this last clause.

"What could scare the brave little Gryffindor?" Marcus asked with a laugh.

Hermione thought, 'you have no idea…how about the end of my life as I know it?' Instead of saying what was on her mind, she shrugged and said, "You have a good point, but I still want you all to raise your hands and agree to it."

At the same time, they did as she requested. All five men said, "Agreed."

Then, Blaise Zabini rubbed his hands together and said, "Excellent. Now that that's over, I think that we should stop arguing over who's going to pick what, and each pick the first thing we want to help the beautiful little lion cub with, and then she should pick which item she wants to work on first."

"Why should she get to pick?" Draco whined.

Adrian replied, "Gee, it's her life, her list, so it should be her decision. I'm not sure why everyone was arguing earlier, anyway. Need I say more?"

"You could," Draco said sarcastically, "but if you did, I would swear you were the girl in question, because she always sounds like she has a wand up her arse, too."

"I just decided," Hermione said, standing, "Draco picks last, because he irritates me the most. Blaise, you pick first, then Marcus, Theo, Adrian, then the blond tosser over there."

"I can't believe I kissed that dirty mouth last night!" Draco moaned.

Blaise began to scrutinize the list carefully, finally coming to a decision. "I'm going to help you to sing in front of an audience, in the vein of _My Fair Lady_. You can be my little Mudblood, cockney flower girl, and I can teach you to speak correctly, or in this case, sing correctly."

Frowning, Hermione pointed out, "Ah, the Mudblood comment was unnecessary, and the Audrey Hepburn reference I made was on the dancing item."

"Who's Audrey Hepburn?" Blaise asked, but then he smiled to show he was joking. Draco leaned to his left and asked Adrian, "Who **is **Audrey Hepburn?"

Hermione gulped and said, "The thing is, I might not want to do that one first, though."

Theo smirked and asked, "Nervous, Miss Granger?"

"No, Mr. Nott, I'm not exactly nervous, but I can't carry a tune in a bucket, and that one will take some time, that's all," she said truthfully.

"Fine. I picked first, but we don't have to do mine first. There's no time table," Blaise responded. "We have time to work on that one."

"There's a six month time table," Marcus reminded him. "I'm next and mine's a given. I'm teaching you Quidditch, little Gryffindor, and we're doing it this Sunday. I'll come over very early and teach you the basics, and then we'll have a game at Adrian's house Sunday afternoon."

"Oh," she proclaimed, and then she was quiet for moment.

Draco slammed his hands on the table. "What now!" Poking Adrian in the ribs with his elbow he said, "She's such a girl sometimes."

"Shove it, Malfoy. It's only that when I wrote that I wanted to play Quidditch with the boys on Sunday, I meant Harry and the Weasleys, but of course, three Weasleys and Harry are in Peru right now, so I suppose I can play with all of you. Okay, we'll do that one first. What's next? Theo?"

She looked at Theo. Marcus moved the list over toward the younger man. He began to look it over again, although he already knew which one he wanted to do first. He knew what one he wanted to do when he first 'stole' the list from her flat. Actually, he wanted two items to do, but one first. "I'll teach you poker. There's a game at Pucey's house every third Saturday. We'll test the waters there after I teach you. We'll talk particulars next week."

He didn't even make eye contact with her when he spoke, and she didn't know why, but she felt unsure as to whether she wanted him to help if he couldn't even look at her. And she wanted to have fun with the 'poker' one, and somehow, she didn't envision Theo having fun.

Still, she didn't protest. Instead, she looked at Adrian and smiled. "My turn?" he asked.

She nodded. He didn't need the list. He stood from his place at the other end of the table, walked up to her, held out his hand and said, "May I have this dance, Miss Hepburn, or this waltz, I might specify?"

She clapped. "I was hoping you'd pick that one! I remember how you asked me to dance at last year's Christmas ball, and I stepped all over your feet, and you didn't complain once!"

"And I shalln't. We might need to practice, and practice, and practice, you know?" He winked at her. "Before you dance all night, Audrey."

She stood and practically jumped into his arms. "Thank you, Adrian!"

"Seriously, who is this Hepburn woman?" Draco snapped. He turned to see that Adrian was still hugging Hermione and said, "Get a room." He walked up to them and pushed them apart physically. All eyes turned to him as he pushed Adrian back down into his chair and pulled on Hermione's hand to take her back to her chair.

Draco said, "Or if you do get a room, remember not to tell anyone about it. I have an idea, actually. If you can teach her to dance by the time of my birthday ball in June, I'll make sure she's invited. There, I'm helping you with your task, because you'll have to wear a fancy ball gown to it." He propped his hip next to Hermione's arm and asked, "Now, may I tell you my first choice, Granger dear?"

"Yes, Malfoy, my favourite idiot, tell me yours," she said with sugary sweetness.

He took the list off the table without looking at it. He then slammed it down in front of her, and pointed at an item, saying, "There! That one. I want to do that one. And since I had to pick last, I get to go first! I'll see you tomorrow morning at ten sharp, Granger dear."

He walked out of the room, laughing the entire way.

"What did he pick?" Theo asked.

Hermione's mouth was still open in shock. She pointed to an item, showed it to Theo, who showed it to the others. Everyone else turned to stare at her, just as shocked as she was.

* * *

_I wonder what Draco picked? We'll have to wait and see!_


	6. Chapter 6 While my Guitar Gently Weeps

**All characters belong to JK Rowling**

**Chapter 6 – While my Guitar Gently Weeps**

Theo started to climb the outside stairs at the back of his house that would take him to Granger's flat when he stopped because he heard a noise. Honing his hearing, he listened closer. He definitely heard a noise. He heard crying. Someone was weeping. More specifically, Hermione Granger was crying, of that he was certain.

A house-warming present to her from Marcus and him was firmly in his grip, but he didn't know what to do with it, because he felt embarrassed. First, he was embarrassed because he felt like a fool for giving her a house-warming present. Second, he was embarrassed that he could hear her crying. Mostly, he was embarrassed that she WAS crying because he wasn't good with emotional people.

He started down the stairs, cursed, turned back to start up the stairs, cursed again, and then froze. He didn't know what to do. He looked at the 'present' dangling from his hands and cursed for the third time. Damn Marcus Flint for suggesting it, blast the fool.

Apparating inside his house, he left the present in his bedroom and went back to his place on the stairs and waited.

Hermione sat outside by the bathroom window of her new little flat, on the slate roof, and she gazed up at the stars and the moon. Wrapping her warm, brown jumper around her tighter, she pondered life and everything she knew about it. Wondering what she could have done differently, how she could have lived better, how she might have escaped her lot, she gave up on all of that, and then, as if she were some stupid watering pot, tears began to fall.

She felt so utterly alone. Both parents were gone. Her mother and father both died of cancer shortly after the war. She felt as if she spent so little time with them. She hardly knew them as an adult. She truly envied those people who had 'adult' relationships with their parents. When she saw women who went shopping with their mothers, or women who took their fathers out for lunch, she always felt a pang or regret, remorse, and even envy.

At least she always had her friends, yet where were they when she needed them the most? They shouldn't be out pursing a cure for her curse when no cure existed. Didn't they believe that she had already exhausted every avenue and expended every energy into finding a cure to this curse? Shouldn't they be here to help her live out her last six months the way she wanted to live it out, not off trying to assuage their own guilt and remorse?

It was so hard to put on a happy face every day. It was so hard to pretend that she wasn't sad. It was hard to pretend that she wasn't scared. If she had to cry occasionally, so be it. She earned the right, didn't she?

The night was warm, and there was a light breeze blowing her hair across her face, yet she stopped crying because she thought she heard a noise down below. Leaning over a bit, she looked out over the eaves toward the steps. She didn't see anyone. It must have been the wind. She leaned back toward the corner of the window, scooting closer to the slant where the roof broke off into two angles, and she swallowed hard against the painful lump in her throat, and with brutal honesty she let her tears fall again, continuing her pity-party for one.

Theo followed the sounds of the tears to the highest pitch of the roof. He thought Miss Granger was afraid of heights. Why would she be on the roof? He would just have to Apparate into her flat and find out, even though he knew it was wrong. He did it the night he stole her list, so he felt no qualms in doing it again. Luckily, she hadn't set up wards against it.

Walking through the living room, which was one large room with a living area on one side and a kitchen area, eating area on the other, he jogged toward the end of the flat, the one that faced the street. It contained her large bedroom and dressing area. It was empty as the rest of the flat. The little toilet was off the eating room, near the door, off the high porch. It was from here that he thought he heard her, so it was there that he checked next.

He wondered if he should call out her name or just knock. He knocked and said, "Ah, Hermione? Hermione Granger?" He felt stupid the moment he said it. Sighing loudly, he opened the door slowly. No one was in the small bathroom. Very empty, with an open window, the curtains pulled outside, he walked inside the room and poked his head out the window.

She WAS on the roof. Why was Hermione Granger crying alone on the roof? Theo threw the sash of the window up a bit higher, looked to his left, then his right, then he hoisted himself up and climbed out of the window.

Dourly he started walking, near the drainpipe, his wand out in case he fell. He called out to her in a loud whisper, "Hermione Granger, what in the world are you doing out here?"

"We've gone from Miss Granger to Hermione Granger in one night," she answered.

Tucked in the corner, where the roof broke off over the bathroom ceiling and the main roof, was one Hermione Granger. In different clothing than she had on earlier tonight, huddled almost in a ball, was a crying, muddled mess of a girl.

It shocked him to see her in such a state.

Why did the scene before him send him into such a panic? Heart hammering in his chest, he walked over carefully to her, dropped to his knees, and asked, "Are you a liar?"

"Excuse me?"

"Are you a liar? Because I was under the impression that the Hermione Granger I went to school with was afraid of heights, yet here she is, on the roof of a four story townhouse, without even the aid of magic keeping her bound to its slippery slopes, so once again, Madam, I must ask you, are you a liar?"

She nodded slightly, then pressed her hands back to her face and continued to cry.

Well shite. Theo didn't know what to do with a crying woman. Furthermore, he wasn't certain she answered his question regarding whether of not if she was a liar. Her eyes opened and she flashed a sad smile at him.

She said, "I've always like to be up high. I used to love to be up on the towers at Hogwarts. It's not heights I hate, but flying."

"Well that answers that question," he snapped. He pulled her up with his hands under her arms, brooking no argument, and he Apparated them both into her flat. Pushing her onto her sofa, he opened the door to her flat and left.

Hermione wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her brown jumper and said, "What was that all about, I wonder?"

Moments later, he returned with a small brown paper bag in his hand. He threw it at her even before he walked all the way back into the room. Explaining, "It's a house warming present from Marcus and me, although for the record, Marcus picked it out, and I was totally against it." He sat on the trunk in front of her and watched with his typical aloofness as she opened it slowly.

"Oh my stars," she exclaimed, peering inside. "Did you know what was in here before you threw it?"

"Of course I did," he said back, surprised. "Did you not hear me say it was from Marcus AND me?"

She pulled out a small brown kitten with big green eyes. Bringing the ball of fur up to her cheek, she cuddled into its softness and said, "I thought you said no cats allowed."

"It's not a cat," Theo said with a hint of a smile. "It's a kitten. I'm surprise you don't know the difference. One's big and one's small. Remind me not to ever have you measure things for me, or on me."

Hermione held the small, wiggly animal in both hands and said, "I can't keep it."

"You can if I say so," he countered.

Hermione made a funny face. Theo didn't understand. Who would take care of it in six months when she was gone? She pushed the kitten into his lap and said, "No." That's all she said, just 'no'.

Frowning, he pushed the kitten off his lap. It landed on the floor, on all four paws, and scampered off toward a chair. "I thought Malfoy told me that you've always had cats. Therefore, Marcus got you a cat. What's the problem?"

"I have always had cats, and there's no problem."

He pressed on. "You had that orange monster in school."

"Crookshanks. His name was Crookshanks," Hermione sighed. She leaned back and watched as the kitten tried to claw up her sofa. She resisted the urge to reach down and give it a hand up.

"So why not take this cat?" Theo was still frowning. "If you don't take it, I don't know what I'll do with it, Miss Granger. Marcus said his girlfriend gave it to him. I know I don't want it. I suppose I could throw it out back in the alley."

Hermione reached down for the kitten and deposited it on the sofa next to her, but she tried not to pay it any attention. "Don't you dare do that, Mr. Nott."

"I might as well." He was still frowning. "You don't want it. I don't want it. No one wants it. It's unwanted."

"Why do you frown so much? You'd be a good-looking man if you'd smile once in while. You're not classically handsome like Blaise, or debonair like Malfoy, although frankly, I find him a pain in the arse, but most women would find you very appealing, if you'd smile."

He continued frowning. "Thank you for that edifying assessment. What does one thing have to do with the other?"

Ignoring his statement, she said, "Or you could keep frowning. I'm sure there are plenty of women who like that, too." Hermione smiled when she said that, but he didn't. Fine. Let him frown. The kitten was now on her lap. "Is it a boy or a girl?"

"How would I know?" Theo asked.

Hermione picked the little animal up, held it upside down, and said, "It's a boy. Figures. He's probably another member of the Viper's Den. I wonder what he'll end up wanting from me."

That made Theo smile a bit, but he ducked his head so Hermione couldn't see. Bringing the kitten back up to her face, nose-to-whiskered nose, Hermione asked the kitten, "What shall we name you, little man?"

"His name is Dante," Theo quipped. "I just decided."

"You can't name my kitten," Hermione argued, holding the kitten against her chest.

Theo stared at her closely. Tears all gone, a glimmer of light once again in her eyes, as well as a bit of a fight. He liked that. "I can name him, because I gave him to you, and if you don't let me name him, you can't keep him."

"Is that your payment for helping me?" she asked, a sly smile on her face.

"Gads, no." He stood up, rubbing his hands up and down on his trousers. "I'll let you know what that is when the time's right."

"Seriously," Hermione started, standing along with Theo, and joining him as he walked toward the door, "I don't think I can keep the cat. I'm sorry. There are circumstances that you don't understand."

"Name one," he urged, reaching over to rub the small cat on the top of the head. When he drew his hand away, he accidentally touched Hermione's hand. She pulled her hand away quickly.

"I could name a dozen, but I won't," she continued. "I'll keep him for tonight, but tomorrow you must come and get him, agreed?" She walked into the small bathroom, placed the kitten inside the tub. Then she placed a pillow in there with him, along with a small bowl of water. Closing the door, she said, "I don't even have the proper supplies for a cat."

"And the stores don't have those types of things do they?" he asked sarcastically, placing one hand on the doorjamb on the door she just closed.

"Of course they do, but that's not the point. I have to get up early tomorrow, for my outing with Malfoy. I won't have time to go to the store, so you come up and get him tomorrow, you hear?"

"Miss Granger," Theo said with a laugh, "Really, you do amuse me. Do I look like someone who would take orders from you?"

Leaning her back against the now closed bathroom door, she merely inhaled a long breath and said, "You're such a contradiction, Mr. Nott."

"Says the woman who acts as if she doesn't have a care in the world, yet she was up on the rooftop crying." He reached out and fingered her brown jumper. "Were you crying because your sweater is so ugly?"

She laughed and asked, "Did Malfoy tell you to say that?"

He smiled. "He did, but it is. By the way," Theo leaned a bit closer, and Hermione had no where to go, since her back was against the door, so she stayed firmly where she was, "Can you believe he picked cutting his father's hair as the first task on your list."

Hermione began to laugh. She reached out one hand to his chest, to steady herself, as she was laughing so hard. He reached out one of his, to do the same, or at least he hoped it would look as if that were the reason he was touching her.

She said, "I know, I know. I can't believe it! I swear, that was the one thing on my list that I put there as a joke. I don't even really want to do it, and I'd like to know how he thinks we're going to go about it!"

"Instead of cutting his hair you should curl it. Lucius Malfoy would look good with curls, I think. Curls like yours." Theo reached up and pulled on one of her curls, his hand rubbing against her cheek in the process. Hermione blinked rapidly as a response.

To cover for her growing nerves at being so close to the one Viper that she had feelings for, she decided to change the subject. Moving away from him, she slid away from the door and walked over to one of the dormer windows beside the couch.

"That's why I was crying, you know," she lied. "When I was on the roof." She looked over her shoulder and then back outside. "I was thinking about Lucius and his hair and I figured once he found out it was me that did it, he would send a balding curse my way, and I'd lose all my curly brown hair."

"For shame on him if he did," Theo said, coming to stand behind her.

She didn't know if she could weather him standing so close behind her either. She placed a hand on the glass and said, "I used to climb out our attic window when I was little. I'd go out there when I was upset, or sad, or lonely, and scare my mother half to bits."

Theo imagined a little Hermione Granger as a child, up on the roof, hair flying in the wind, fearless, challenging her parents to everything and anything. He wondered why she was on the roof tonight. Was it because she was upset, or sad, or lonely, or scared?

Without forethought, Theo reached under Hermione's hair and placed his hand on her back, so that his fingers brushed the nape of her neck. She shivered a small movement. Was it a shiver of pleasure, or something different? Her skin was warm and silky. He wanted to lean forward and kiss her, but he wouldn't. Not yet.

He wanted to kiss her from head to toe.

He wanted to trace an entire outline of her body with his tongue.

He'd had his fair share of women in his life, but none as complex or compelling as the woman before him. Just as he was about to pull his hand away from her back, she leaned toward him.

He reached around her with his other hand, bringing his arm around her waist. In a gesture of intimate trust and surrender, she closed her eyes and said, "Fine, I'll keep the kitten."

He wanted to laugh, but he didn't. Moving away as quickly as she leaned into him, she went to her door, opened it and said, "You should go now. I've got a scary, I mean, a big day tomorrow." She smiled at her obvious mistake.

Walking out the door, with noticeable reluctance, he turned back to her once out the threshold and asked, "You never did tell me why you were really crying."

"Oh, that," she said with a wave of her hand. Moving a long strand of her chestnut hair off her shoulders, she said, "I was crying because I was longing for a kitten or a cat, but I knew that I couldn't have one, due to my new landlord's propensity toward hating all things soft and cuddling and toward all things that leave rings on tables. But now, well, I've nothing to cry about, do I?"

She leaned forward, placed a hand on his shoulder, and kissed his cheek with the softest of kisses. He thought it felt like a raindrop fell upon his cheek. He didn't want to act too surprised by her kiss, but he was sure he looked surprised, all the same. She closed the door, without another word, leaving him on her doorstep, to ponder her words of lies, and her small but meaningful kiss.

And the fact that, dammit, he now had a cat in his house.

* * *

_A/N - I swear the next chapter will have the 'hair cutting' and the chapter after that will have some fun!_


	7. Chapter 7 Do You Want to Know a Secret

**All characters belong to JK Rowling**

**Chapter 7 – Do You Want to Know a Secret**

Staring at her reflection in her bathroom mirror with her new little kitten sleeping snuggly in her vanity basin, Hermione wondered, 'How did one dress when one was going to go cut the hair of a former Death Eater without his knowledge'?

Oh why did she put that insane task on her list! She didn't really want to cut Lucius Malfoy's hair! Putting that item down was a lark, a passing fancy, a funny thing to do! For one thing, Hermione never imagined anyone other than Harry and Ron would see her list. Furthermore, she never thought in a million years that she would actually have a chance to complete her list. If she did, she wouldn't have wasted one of her spaces with something as inane as 'cutting Lucius Malfoy's hair'!

Frowning at her reflection, she touched one of the dark circles under her eyes. After Theo left, she cried some more, then she stayed awake worrying about today. Her contact with Lucius Malfoy since the end of the war was minimal at best. He spent several years back in Azkaban, and after that, he had a mostly self-imposed reclusion at the Manor.

The Manor. That was another source of Hermione's discomfort this morning. She reached down and stroked the downy soft fur of the kitten as it slept in her sink and thought about the fact that this task would surely have to take place at Malfoy Manor. A place she had only been to once – and it was during the war. A place she never wanted to see again – because of what happened to her during the war.

Picking up the kitten, (disturbing its slumber) she looked right in its green eyes and said, "Six months to live or not, who in their right mind would want to go to Malfoy Manor and cut Lucius Malfoy's hair!"

"Talking to yourself again, Granger? Some say that's a sign of senility."

Gasping, Hermione jumped, turning around in surprised, and dropped the kitten to the floor. It scampered off, running past Draco Malfoy's feet. He looked down at it and scolded, "Oh, you're in so much trouble. Theo said no pets."

"You scared me." Hand to chest, she wondered if he heard the 'six months to live' part but decided that he must not have or he would probably have commented on it immediately. "How did you get in here?"

"Theo mentioned you hadn't changed the wards yet. He said he popped in here last night."

"Humph!" She folded her arms in front of her chest in silent aggravation. "Then Mr. Nott should have informed you that the reason HE popped in here last night was to give me SAID cat."

"Naughty girl, lying like that again. You didn't use to lie, and now you're lying all the time. So Slytherin of you. I think I like it." He swung an arm around her shoulders and stated, "We're going to corrupt you by the end of this, yes we are. Well, are you ready to go?"

Shrugging his arm off her shoulders, she said, "I'm not lying. Theo and Marcus gave me the kitten as a house-warming present. Theo even named him for me, although I don't intend to call him by that name."

"Speaking of the little bugger, where is he?" Draco looked around the room.

"Oh, did Theo come up with you?" Hermione asked, looking around the room with him.

Draco tapped her shoulder to get her attention, and when she looked at his face, he looked very amused. "I meant the cat, my dear Granger, although I shall endeavor not to tell Theo that you think he's a little bugger."

Hermione couldn't help but smile at her honest, but slightly dim mistake.

Forgetting that for a moment, she looked for the kitten, and finally spied him under her table and chairs, playing with a toy mouse she got him that morning, when she went out and bought all the other cat accoutrements that the _little bugger_ would need. Walking over to the kitten, she bent down, picked him up, and presented him to Malfoy.

"Master Malfoy, may I present Master Dante."

Draco picked up one of the small kitten's front paws, shook it lightly, and said, "Hello you little heathen. Charmed, I'm sure." Taking the kitten from her hands, he examined it closely and said, "He doesn't look like a Dante. I think I'll call him Nero."

"Whatever. You do that." Hermione rolled her eyes, took her cat back from the evil Slytherin, and placed him on the sofa. "May we leave now?"

"Anxious to go, are you?" He winked and smirked at her. For the life of her, she would never know how someone could do something like that. She also would never know how someone who was such a spoiled little sycophant in school could turn into such a charming, urbane, debonair man.

"Listen, Malfoy, about our task today. Do you think you could possibly pick something else to help me accomplish, and then I could add something different to replace 'cutting Lucius Malfoy's hair'? I mean, it's so silly, and it's not really one of my dying…I mean, one of my fondest wishes to fulfill. I'm sure I could come up with something better."

Approaching her, he answered, "Ah, Granger dear, I'm sure you could as well, but that's not the point. It's too late now. It's all arranged and I've made elaborate plans. Wheels are turning. Things are in motion. You're in the thick of things. Now be a good little witch and take my arm and I'll Disapparate you to our destination."

He held out his arm.

She literally backed away from him. As if he smelled badly. Or had leprosy.

Cocking his head to the side and regarding her with mixed emotions, he asked, "What's wrong with you? I've never seen you act so…what's the word I'm searching for, oh yes, craven before."

"CRAVEN!" she almost shouted.

"Yes," he smiled. "It means to act cowardly. I could use another word if you'd rather. You like big words. How about pusillanimous? Have you ever heard of that one? Did I pronounce it correctly? Or I could use common words, since you're a common Mudblood sort of girl. Like gutless, spineless, timorous, nervous, frightened, lily-livered, scared…"

She cut him off there with a hand over his mouth. "NEVER CALL ME A MUDBLOOD AGAIN, MALFOY! AND I AM NOT SCARED!" With her hand still covering his mouth she said, "I've never been scared of anything! How dare you say I'm scared! You have no idea of the things I've faced in my life! You have no idea of the bravery I've had to show, and how young I was when I had to show it! You have no clue the things I had to do in the face of fear! You have no idea the things I STILL HAVE TO DO IN THE FACE OF FEAR! I'M FACING FEAR EVERYDAY OF MY SHORT LIFE!"

Hermione was backing him up against the wall as she yelled at him, and when she was finished, he was completely against the wall by the door. Her hand was still on his mouth, and her heaving chest against his. She was so close that she hadn't noticed that he had placed his arms around her waist.

She finished softer, with one statement, "So don't you ever say I'm afraid again."

She didn't know a tear was falling down her cheek until his hand came up and swiped it away. She let her hand drop away from his mouth and rested it on his chest. She sighed as his hand came to the back of her head, pushing it against his chest. Resting her head there, she sighed.

Rubbing his left hand in circles on her back while stroking her hair with his right, he softly told Hermione, "There's nothing wrong with admitting that you're sometimes afraid, Granger dear. We're all afraid sometimes. I promise you that. No one would ever think less of you for admitting that."

She felt such comfort in his arms, and by receiving that comfort, she was admitting to her fear in her own way. Looking up into his grey eyes, she nodded. Just nodded, knowing he would understand what she meant by that nod.

And he did. He lifted the hand that cradled the back of her head, brought it to her cheek, then leaned forward and kissed her forehead. Pausing, he pulled back and looked into her brown eyes, awash with unshed tears He was filled with some unnamed emotion that was about to trample his tarnished armor. It might be something like honour, or admiration. Certainly it was respect and esteem.

Even so, her breasts were pressed against his chest. Her thighs against his. Her face angled upwards, just right. She smelled so sweet. He yearned to take off all her clothes and lick every inch of her body. He desired her more than he had ever desired another woman. His newfound respect and admiration for her was at war with the desire, lust, and strange new unnamed emotion that he felt for her.

And just what was this unnamed emotion? Was it love? Certainly not. He knew that. It was more complicated than that.

Therefore, he couldn't do what he yearned to do, which was to kiss her swollen, wet lips, and then throw her on the floor and make mad, passionate love to her. He couldn't take advantage of the situation, because she came to his arms in a moment of sadness, a moment of weakness, _a moment of fear_. Even Draco Malfoy wasn't such a cad to take advantage of such a situation as that.

He might one day, but not right now.

Right now he was going to Disapparate away with her, because she wasn't craven, and he wasn't really going to make her cut his father's hair. Instead, he was going to show her something that scared him.

She wasn't even aware they had Disapparated somewhere until they arrived. Pushing out of his arms, she looked around. They were in a large studio, a loft, perhaps the top of a converted warehouse, probably in Muggle London.

Draco didn't say a word, he merely watched as Hermione looked around, walking through the loft, touching things, examining things. Finally she asked, "Where are we?"

"My studio."

"What?"

"This is my art studio." He let out a breath, and said it again. "This is my studio. It's the place I come to paint. All the times the chaps think I'm off doing other things, I'm usually here."

"You paint?" She approached him.

He nodded.

That was when she finally realized that there were canvases of all sizes all over the large, open area. They were against all the walls, some stacked against each other. Some were hanging on the walls. A large easel stood in the center of it all, with a wooden table beside it, and a wooden stool in front.

Approaching the easel, she walked to the front and saw that there was a large canvas on it, draped with a drop cloth. Biting her bottom lip, she pulled the drop cloth off the painting, threw it on the floor, and stared at the painting in front of her.

Then she laughed. Hard.

Draco stood behind her with a large smile on his face.

On the wooden easel was a canvas portrait of Lucius Malfoy almost completed, (a Muggle rendition, in that it didn't move) and it was devoid of hair. In the place where hair should have been was nothing but white canvas.

Turning around to Draco with a smile still on her face, she said, "This is brilliant."

Ten minutes later, they both had aprons tied around their necks to protect their clothing. Draco had mixed up a variety of paints on the palette and he handed a brush to Hermione.

Brush in hand, she said, "I'll ruin the painting. I can't paint."

"First, you won't ruin it. I was painting this one as a lark anyway, and when I decided to do this task with you, I removed the hair with magic. If you mess up, we can remove it with magic again."

She turned toward him as he continued. "That's the beauty of magic and painting, Granger dear. There are no mistakes. Everything can be righted. A person can fix it all. And if it can't be fixed with magic, it can be painted over, so relax."

He pushed her closer to the canvas, stood behind her, and lifted her right hand.

"You're wrong, you know," she said, putting her brush to the painting.

"About what?" He held her hand in his as she made the first tentative stroke.

"Magic can't fix everything," she said wistfully, adding in her mind, 'if it could, I wouldn't be here today, because I wouldn't have had to make my list'.

He responded, "But painting can." She didn't think so, but she didn't contradict him.

Draco's chest was against her back. His left arm was around her waist, his right hand guiding her right hand. To some, their situation would be charged with nothing but sexuality. But to Hermione, at that moment she felt more than sensuality, although she felt that, too. She felt almost a holy communion with this man, this place, this paintbrush, this canvas, this room. A streak of sunlight was coming into one of tall windows and it was shining right on them. It was almost as if some higher being had cast a spotlight on them, telling her that this was her moment to shine.

Because this was one of her dying wishes fulfilled, and she didn't even know it until now.

They continued to paint for the longest time in complete, enraptured silence. Draco guiding her hand, doing the majority of the painting, only pretending that she was helping, but she still felt a sense of peace and well-being. Now she knew what he meant when he made his statement that 'painting could fix everything'. Even though it really couldn't, it felt as if it could.

When they were done, they stood back together and looked at 'their masterpiece'.

Then they faced each other and burst out laughing, because they had painted a bright pink Mohawk on the top of Lucius Malfoy's head.

Laughing uncontrollably, they pulled at each other's arms, tugging, reaching, until they fell down upon a sofa that Draco had in the far corner of the loft.

When the laughter ceased, Hermione, holding her side, said, "Does anyone know you paint? Anyone at all?"

He shook his head no.

"Why not? You're very good."

"I'm afraid to tell them," he admitted.

Looking at him with a different perspective, she couldn't believe Draco Malfoy admitted to her that he was afraid of something. Oh, she could BELIEVE he was afraid of many things, but for him to admit it was another thing altogether.

Placing a hand on his thigh, she said, "But you're really, really good."

Sitting upright, he said, "But I paint with Muggle paints. I paint Muggle paintings. No one would understand – not my parents, nor my mates."

Hermione nodded. "Well, thanks for sharing it with me. I won't tell a soul." She started to look around the room again. "Your paintings remind me of the Impressionism style."

"That's the style that, well, moves me," he admitted.

When she looked back at him, he was looking at the ground. Placing a hand on his knee, she asked, "Who's your favourite Impressionist?"

"Cezanne," he said without hesitation. "Although I like Manet, too."

Hermione smiled. "Impressionism means the celebration of light. Who would have thought that Draco Malfoy, a man who only wears black, would celebrate light?" she mused. "I always liked Mary Cassatt. When I was little, my parents took me to an art museum, and up until that time, I thought Manet and Monet was the same person, with just different pronunciation of the names."

This time Draco smiled. Then he reached over, cupped her cheek and said, "I want to paint you."

Falling to his knees on the floor, he placed his arms around her knees. She sat up straight, eyes wide. He laughed and said, "Not right now, that will come later. That will be your payment to me."

"Oh," she sighed. "Well, alright, then."

"Wait, Granger, before you agree." He pulled her a bit closer, so that she was sitting on the edge of the couch, her knees tucked under his right arm, his arms now around her waist as he knelt on the floor. "I want to paint you nude. You're so beautiful. You hide your body in ugly clothing. Thank goodness you don't have that horrendous brown jumper on today." He reached up behind her neck and untied the white apron. It fell from her neck, pooling at her waist. Then his hands went around and untied it from her waist. He threw it on the ground, and then did the same with his.

Next, he took one finger and traced a line across her jaw, down her neck, and to her collarbone. He either had to stop because of the collar of her shirt – or go over her shirt.

He went over her shirt.

The entire time, Hermione and Draco's eyes didn't stray from the others.

His finger went over her collarbone, down her chest, over one breast, down her rib cage, and across her stomach. She stiffened – froze. Heat suffused her everywhere. Wetness pooled between her legs, whether this was due to Malfoy or not, she didn't know or care. She was trying to stay clear-minded and relaxed, but she found it difficult as he let his finger travel lightly over her thigh to her bare knee.

She knew she shouldn't have worn a long sleeve t-shirt and a skirt to 'cut Lucius Malfoy's hair'? His finger went down her bare leg, then back up again, on the inside of her calf. She wanted to melt like butter. She also wanted to sink back onto the couch, have him kiss her, or do something like that. Yet still, she didn't harbor feelings for Draco Malfoy!

This was desire, nothing more. She only had six months to live, so why not have some fun?

While her mind was pondering these thoughts, his finger was moving her skirt upwards on her thigh, and was now all the way up to the elastic of her knickers. That was when 'sensible Hermione' came to life and clamped a hand on his wrist.

Without missing a beat, and with his hand still under her skirt held by hers, he said, "As I was saying, your body is meant to be painted, and I want to paint you nude. After that, I want to have sex with you, all night long. That's my payment."

He pulled his hand out from under her skirt and stood up.

For some reason she felt a bit peeved all of the sudden. Looking at the floor, she said, "No one will know?"

"No one will know. They don't know about this, and they won't know about that."

Bringing her gaze up to his, she inquired, "And what will happen to the painting?"

"I'll give it to you, if you'd like."

She shook her head no. She was going to die. What would she do with a nude painting of herself? She pointed to another painting on the wall. "I want that one. You can keep the nude Hermione painting, but you have to put some sort of illusion on it so that whenever someone besides you looks at it, they can't see that it's me."

"Is that possible?" he asked, amused. He pulled her up from the couch, and kept her hands in his.

"I could tell you the charm. It's possible."

"I should have known you would know it," he said with a wink. "Do we have a deal?"

She nodded.

"In the tradition of Granger and Malfoy, we'll seal this one with a kiss." Draco pulled her into his arms and placed his mouth easily over hers. She arched effortlessly into his arms. She made a little moaning noise, which was as desirous to him as any sex act that any woman had ever perform to him. It made him crave her even more.

He found her body lush, sweet, and responsive. His tongue swept around her lips, and then plunged into her hot mouth. She opened for him easily. Tasting, teasing, anticipating, she made another sound of pleasure and he fought the urge to push her onto the sofa and take her right there.

But it wasn't the time. He would wait until he painted her. Then he would take her. It would be sweeter that way.

Right now, he wanted more of her kiss. Hands cradling her face and head, he tilted her head back, marveling at the way her hands explored his chest and back and the way her tongue battled with his. It was reminiscent of the way they warred with words when they were younger, only now, they were warring with tongues and hands.

Heat and need coursed through every fiber of his body and it took almost all his willpower to push her away, but push her away he did.

She almost stumbled from his arms. With a hand on her wet, kiss-swollen lips, she stared at him in shock. My goodness, but Draco Malfoy could kiss. He looked as shocked as she felt.

To fill the awkward silence that was ensuing, she walked over to the wall that housed the painting that she wanted. She pulled the painting down, tucked it under her arm, and with a smile commanded, "Take me home now, Draco. I want to hang my new painting on my wall."

Draco smiled at her again, but he held out his hand to take her home. Once there, he even helped her hang her new painting above the sofa. Then he petted 'Nero' goodbye, helped her cross off #14 on her list, and said, "By the by, Granger dear, I was told to inform you that in two days Marcus Flint would be by to take you out to a new nightclub called 'Midnight', where you'll complete task number #15."

He started out the door.

Hermione pulled on his arm. "Wait, is Marcus even next? And I thought Marcus was going to do the Quidditch one first."

Shrugging slightly, Draco replied, "Who said you're in control here? And there was a change in plans apparently. He said to be ready to go by nine o'clock and wear something pretty. I assume that means leave the brown monster at home." Leaning in, he kissed her cheek and then walked down the stairs.

Hermione placed a hand on her cheek and said, "Oh my stars, I'm going to get totally pissed in two nights, and I'm not even going to care."

* * *

_How about some Blaise next, before we get to Marcus Flint? I'm in the mood, are you?_


	8. Chapter 8 Get Back

**All characters belong to JK Rowling**

******Chapter 8 – Get Back to Where You Once Belong (Get Back Loretta)**

Blaise Zabini stared inside the little window to the right of Hermione Granger's door, but he couldn't see inside to her flat. He jiggled the door handle and found it locked. He knocked three times; no one answered, so took out his wand and performed a simple, "Alohamora," to gain entry to the flat. Just as he was about to cross over the threshold, he heard a voice behind him say, "That's breaking and entering, you know."

He turned to see Hermione standing behind him, Muggle grocery bags in her arms. He took one from her and said, "I beg to differ. It would be more like entering without the breaking. I used my wand to open the lock."

"True, true, but you still tried to gained entry without my consent," she replied, brushing past him to place her bag on the table. He placed his beside it. "Were you looking for me?"

He pulled out a chair and sat down. Stretching his long legs out in front of him, he answered, "As a matter of fact, my little lion cub, I was." She turned away from him to go back outside, where she had left two more bags. Standing back up, he levitated the bags right from her hands to the table. Hermione closed the door with her foot and went back toward the table, and then began to unload her groceries.

Sitting back in his seat he explained, "I heard you were going out with Marcus tomorrow night to complete task number 15." From his place at the table, he began to help her unload the groceries.

Shaking her head, she said, "Thank you for helping me, and yes I am. I don't know where I lost control of the list and the order in which things were to be executed. Marcus wasn't supposed to go second, but there you go. You Vipers tend to do things your own way."

She turned to put something in a cupboard as he remarked, "That we do."

Turning back toward him, she asked, "Is there a reason why this is something that needs your attention? Is there something I can do for you?"

Leaning back again, crossing his legs at the ankles, he said, "No, but there's something I can do for you. I was dispatched here by Malfoy to help you pick out something appropriate to wear tomorrow night."

With a befuddled and bemused look on her face, and with a can of pears in one hand, peaches in the other, Hermione quizzed, "Why would Malfoy care what I wear while on a task with Marcus Flint?"

"Because of the place Marcus Flint is taking you, that's why," he replied. "It's extremely posh and upscale."

She interrupted, "But surely that would be Marcus' concern, not Malfoy's, and certainly not yours." She still held the cans of fruit in each hand and had a look of mild aggravation on her face.

He leaned forward and said, "Fine, I'm blaming Malfoy for this, when really, I'm the one who wants to dress you for your outing with Marcus. Satisfied?"

Frowning with every aspect of her countenance, she said, "Not in the least. Why should you care what I wear anymore than Malfoy? There's something you're not telling me, isn't there?"

"First, put down the fruit cans and no one will get hurt," he teased while standing and walking toward her with his hands up in the air. He took the pears from her first, then the peaches. Placing them on the table, he added, "Is it so wrong for us to want our special project to look nice?"

She stomped her foot. "I'm more than some special project! And I know how to dress for a night out to a nightclub or a pub!"

"Yet explain why you went out in public in that." He pointed toward her brown jumper.

She rolled her eyes. "Will you all give it a rest? I like my brown jumper, but I would never wear it to a fancy restaurant, or out dancing or drinking!"

Blaise smiled and reached up and removed the sweater right off her shoulders. She would have fought him, but she figured, 'what was the use?'

He draped it across a chair and assessed her figure. "Not bad, not bad."

"Not bad?" she echoed. "Well, gee, I guess you're not bad yourself."

"Really?" He smiled again. "Am I really not bad?" he asked.

She was going to make a disparaging remark against him, but realized she couldn't, even in jest. First, because she didn't lie, and there was nothing she could say against him physically. He was taller than the other Vipers, except for maybe Marcus. Hermione wasn't a very tall woman, but she still preferred tall men, and Blaise was very tall.

His skin was the colour of caramel. Or was it mocha latte? Whatever, it was light brown, warm, and she would bet her last galleon that it tasted sweet. He had dark brown hair, which he wore short, dark brown eyes, and an incredibly muscular, supple looking body. He optimized sex appeal and attractiveness. He was by far the best-looking Viper in a den of gorgeous snakes. While Draco was dashing, Theo was handsome, Marcus was good-looking, and Adrian was attractive, Blaise was actually beautiful. He was by far the best-looking man she had ever known in her life.

For that reason, while she pondered these and other things, she had no control over her mouth when the next words came tumbling out on their own accord, "Why aren't you married yet?"

Leaning closer to her, so that her bum was pressed up against her kitchen counter, he said, "Are you proposing? Because, really, I merely wanted to help you pick out a dress, but if you think we'd make a good couple, I'll defer to your decision. Although I'm not sure I have anything long term in mind."

She had to smile at him in return. Swatting his arm, she couldn't help but think that there was an underlying sadness behind that beautiful façade. That alone made her feel they were kindred spirits, because she too wore a happy mask to hide her current pain.

She explained, "I'm serious, Blaise. None of the Vipers are married, which begs me to ask why? Some of you I might understand, and in the Muggle world, 26, 27, 28 years old isn't old, but most Wizards are married by that age. Harry's married, so is Ron, and all of his brothers save for Charlie, yet none of the Vipers wear wedding rings."

She thought for a moment and expressed, "Malfoy's too much of a playboy, and once he settles down, too much will be expected from him by his parents, so it's understandable that he would remain single as long as he can."

Blaise nodded in agreement, even as he moved beside her to sit upon her counter top. Hermione continued putting her groceries away as she spoke, walking around him, moving him to the right and to the left. "Marcus has been living with his girlfriend for four years, so where's the incentive to marry? They might as well continue as they are."

She pulled over a chair, climbed it, and placed two jars on a top shelf. He shook his head, placed his hand on her back to steady her, looked at his wand on the table, and shook his head again.

Stepping off the chair, she said, "Adrian's job isn't the type that's conducive to having a wife and family, so I understand him, too." She began to fold the bags, and then placed them under her sink.

"What about Theo?" Blaise asked. He pulled on her sleeve to make her stop so she could finish her diatribe, then continued pulling on her arm so that she was forced to stop between the V of his legs.

"I haven't totally figured him out yet, but when I do, I'll let you know what his problem is, don't fear. But you…" she made to walk away from him.

"Me?" He seemed amused. He still had a hold of her arm. Pulling on it again, he forced her back to stand between his long legs as he jumped off the counter and leaned against her kitchen cupboard. Now she was practically leaning against his long frame. "Tell me all about me, little cub. I'm absolutely enthralled and am waiting in anticipation."

"Well I will," she spat, not even noticing that he had his arms lightly around her waist. She said, "You're dashing, charming, handsomer than a man should be allowed to be, down right beautiful really, and don't get angry, but you're even what I would call sweet and nice, although I promise not to mention that to anyone. My goodness. You're depriving some woman a wonderful husband! Get married, Blaise!"

His arms still circling her, he laughed, a laugh that was laced with the same underling sadness that she saw in his smile. "Like my mother? She's been married eight… or is it nine times. Yes, marriage worked out beautifully for her. No – marriage isn't for me, little cub, for too many reasons to mention. But what about you, sweet thing. Why isn't there a Mr. Hermione Granger?"

She snorted at that comment, and smacked him hard on his chest. "Mr. Granger? Would he really be named Mr. Granger?"

"I figured you were so liberated that you'd make your husband take your name," he mocked.

"Whatever. Avoid my question by ruffling my feathers, I don't care," she commented, pulling out of his arms. She sat down at her table and placed her hand flat on the smooth surface. "I was only making an honest observation."

"As was I. You're beautiful, smarter than you have a right to be," he mocked, using the same words that she used a moment before, "sexy, if not a bit scary sometimes…"

She interrupted him, "SCARY! I'm so happy all of you Vipers have such a high opinion of me. First Malfoy says I'm craven and now you say I'm scary! How am I scary?"

He smiled with a half grin. "I was a bit scared of you in school, that's all."

"Pishaw!" She looked down at the tabletop and repeated, "Scary, gee, thanks. Why were you scared of me in school?" She didn't meet his gaze.

He walked up to her and lifted her chin with his thumb and index finger. "I was scared of you in a good way. You were too smart by half, a bit of a swot, and surly and bossy to boot, but the thing that gulled most of us purebloods was that you were nothing but a Muggle-born, but you were better than we were. Better at everything! Better at charms, spells, transfiguration, everything! Now, let me repeat this. You were too good for the lot of us, Granger, and I mean that sincerely. You still are. It mystified us, and therefore, it scared us."

She jerked her chin from his hand and stood up quickly. "That's not true. You know that's not true."

He stood as well and said, "The only thing I know that's true, is that underneath all that bossiness is a sweet little lion cub, waiting to come out." When he was close to her, as he was now, she could smell his cologne, and she felt like melting into a puddle at his feet. Why were all the Vipers having such an odd effect on her? Had they put the Imperius Curse on her? Was she going mad?

"Let's get back to the reason you committed a crime this afternoon," Hermione decided. She scooted her chair under the table and asked, "Why do you want me to look nice for my night of getting pissed out of my mind?"

"I want you to look especially nice because I happen to own the nightclub, _Midnight_, to which Marcus is taking you."

She sighed. "And you don't want me to embarrass you, or what?"

"How dare you think that," he said sincerely. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her into her bedroom. "I want you to look good enough to eat because I want everyone to feel the same things we all felt back in school." He pushed her down to the bed and threw open her closet door. "I want everyone to KNOW that you're better than them, sexier, prettier, and smarter. I want them all to be jealous. I want every man to want you, and every woman to envy you." Pushing aside clothing, he said, "It's a private club, very exclusive."

From her place on the bed, Hermione asked. "Exclusive? How so?" She pushed off her shoes and scooped up the kitten that was asleep on her pillows.

Without missing a beat, he answered, "For purebloods only, although we aren't allowed to say it's that, but it is. And everyone there will know you're there as Marcus' special guest and mine."

"Purebloods only?" Hermione asked, outraged. "I wouldn't want to go to someplace that's for purebloods only, special guest or not!"

Blaise laughed, threw his arm around her shoulders and said, "Listen, little cub, it's for purebloods only in the way that the Viper's Den is for Slytherin males only, and look at how you've infiltrated us. Don't give it a thought. Besides, by the time I've picked out an outfit for you, you'll have forgotten that I even mentioned that little tidbit of information."

She gave him her sternest stare and said, "I rather doubt that."

Two hours later, with clothing everywhere and her closet and bedroom a complete shambles, Hermione had completely forgotten that they were picking out an ensemble for her to wear to an exclusive 'pureblood's only club' because she was enjoying herself so much.

Laying back on the bed, with Blaise lying beside her, the little kitten on his stomach, she did realized something important. In the last two hours, she hadn't thought about her predicament once. MOREOVER, she'd actually had fun, more fun than she'd had in a long time. She'd enjoyed being with Blaise Zabini, playing dress up with him, picking out a pretty dress, shoes, even stockings, underwear and a purse for tomorrow night. The man was engaging, enlightening, and had exquisite taste.

"I've had a lot of fun this afternoon," she admitted, staring up at the ceiling, before she turned her head to look at him. "I've never been the sort of girl to like dressing up, or picking out clothing, shoes, and the sort, but this has been fun. My room's a mess, and it will take me an hour to set it to rights, but still, it's been a wonderful afternoon. It's the sort of thing ones does with a girlfriend, except I've only ever had male friends, so thanks."

Blaise turned to his side, gave her a sly smile. The kitten rolled off his stomach and landed between them. He asked, "Did you just call me your girlfriend?"

Thinking about what she had just said she laughed. "No. I mean, I compared you to, I mean, oh hell." She laughed again. "Shut up," she finally said.

He laughed too. "I've enjoyed myself, too." He reached over and drew a finger down her cheek. "And you're welcome." Pushing up from the bed he stated, "I should be going."

She placed a hand on his arm. "Must you?" She didn't want him to go. She didn't want to face another lonely, empty evening by herself with nothing but her own thoughts to haunt her. She knew as soon as he left all her fears would return and she didn't want that to happen. Quickly, she suggested, "If you leave I'll be forced to tidy up my room. Stay. We could talk."

"Talk? Sure, let's talk." He pulled off his boots and settled back on the bed. "Fine. We shall talk. How do girlfriends converse? Do we trade recipes? Talk of secret loves? What?"

She hid her face in her pillow and laughed again. "Oh do forget I said that whole girlfriend speech!" she said with a muffled voice.

"It's forgotten." He pulled the pillow off her head, placed it back under her head, and then smoothed down her hair. He proposed, "Let's get to know each other better. We'll each ask each other five serious questions, and we must answer, agreed?"

She sat up against the headboard, with the pillow on her stomach. Looking down at him, she laughed and replied, "Don't be angry, but I think that's what girlfriends do when they spend the night with each other."

He pulled on one of her ankles until she was lying back by his side. "I'M NOT YOUR GIRLFRIEND AND I WON'T BE SPENDING THE NIGHT!" he bellowed, tickling her ribs. "Now, I insist we get comfortable, and I would be more comfortable with you down here with me," he supplied, slinging an arm carelessly over her body.

She felt slightly uneasy being so close to the handsome man. She tried to tell herself that this was no different than being with Ron or Harry, and having their arms around her. Their hands touching her face, stroking her hair, caressing her cheek – yet it was different. Very different.

Turning to her side, pillow under her head, she stammered, "Oh, alright, you go first, Blaise. Question number one."

"Are you in love with one of the Vipers?"

She sat back up, shocked that he would ask such a thing. How did he know?

_(To be continued…part II of this chapter coming up!)_

* * *

_*I had a helk of a time posting this chapter. I couldn't upload the chapter. Everytime I did, I got an error 403 timeout code. I had to copy and paste. What a problem. If this site continues to cause so many problems, I don't know if I'll post the next one tomorrow night or not. Thanks!_


	9. Chapter 9 You're Gonna Carry that Weight

**All characters belong to JK Rowling**

**Chapter 9 - Boy, You're Going to Carry that Weight**

While Hermione was getting comfortable on her bed beside Blaise, he decided something. He was going to be truthful to her, but only up to a point, and only dependent upon her answer to a simple question. He had spent his whole life hiding certain aspects of his life from everyone…his mother, her various husbands, his friends. Nevertheless, for the first time he felt as if he could be honest and free, but only with this woman. He _wanted _to be honest with her. What was she doing to him? Was he becoming a bloody Gryffindor…snakes preserve him!

She turned to her side, pillow under her head, and she began, "Oh, alright, you go first, Blaise. Question number one."

Therefore, he asked the one question that would decide whether he would be honest with her about his secret. "Are you in love with one of the Vipers?"

She sat back up. The expression on her face told him everything he had to know. The answer hung between them, heavy in the air. She was. He even already guessed which one it was. When the silence between them grew rigid and overwhelming, he decided to use a new stratagem to get his answer.

With his hand coming to cover hers as it rested on the bed between them, he suggested, "Forget that question, little cub. I know you really love us all equally. What I really want to know first is, what age were you when you lost your virginity?"

She sighed with relief that she didn't have to answer the other question. This one was an easy one, so she answered honestly. "I was twenty."

"Blimey, cub. Twenty? You seriously have a lot of ground to make up. Thank goodness, you're young and have your whole life before you. With whom was your cherry popped? Was that correct grammar or what?" He grinned.

"I'm too tired to think about whether its '_with whom'_ or '_with who'_ at this point, but it's dependent upon '_whom'_ would be the object of the sentence, but in any case, '_who_' do you think the object of that sentence might be?" she countered with a smile.

He made a funny face and leveled, "If you force me to say his name aloud, I might make a fool of myself by tossing my crumpets all over your pretty little bedspread. We'll leave it well enough alone. I feel badly enough that you were twenty, let alone that it was with someone like him."

She hit him and asked, "How old were you?"

"Fourteen."

"FOURTEEN?" she yelled in return. "That's terribly young!"

"Tell that to my mother's fourth husband's present wife, for that's who seduced me, although she wasn't married to the man at the time, obviously." He moved his hand to her hip.

"It still sounds slightly incestual. Where did you all live, Gomorrah?"

He smiled. "I remember it as a nice memory, so please don't try to tarnish it with your middle-class, bourgeois, Muggle-born pedantic morals. Just because a chap was young when he lost his virginity, and he enjoys some S&M occasionally, and don't look so shocked, props and toys are enjoyable, doesn't make him depraved. Gomorrah indeed." He pulled her slightly closer. "My turn to ask another question. Question two, how many men have you slept with?"

"One," she answered quickly.

Now it was his turn to be shocked. "ONE! My goodness, little cub! You're almost a virgin! Is there even a light at the end of your tunnel?"

She laughed, hit him again, and said, "Gosh! I think I misunderstood your question!" She brought her hands up to her face to hide her embarrassment. "You're such a degenerate soul that I thought you meant 'how many' at one time!"

"I told you I'm not a pervert," he laughed in return. He brought one of his hands up to her hands, bringing them both down to peer upon her face. She was now lying on her back and he was peering down at her. "You're just so innocently sweet sometimes, little cub. I must seem like a tarnished soul to someone like you."

"No, not tarnished. But I might start calling you Caligula," she joked.

"He was known for his sexual perversity, so thank you," he smiled. Still looming over her, his hand going lazily up and down her arm, he asked, "Now, let's get back to my question. How many, little cub. I want a number and I want it now."

Playing with the buttons of his shirt, she pulled on the first one and said, "Ron was one," then she flicked the second button and said, "My boyfriend from Uni was two." Pushing on a third button she said, "Someone whom I greatly regret is number three," then patting his arm, pushing him over, and looming over him, she said, "And number four was Adrian Pucey." She patted his stomach and laughed.

"WHAT!" He was so shocked by that announcement that he pushed her off him onto her back, and he straddled her small body with his large one.

He captured her hands in his, held them next to her head, loomed nose to nose over top of her and said, "Spill it, Hermione Granger! My third question was going to be 'why didn't you marry Weasel' but by all that's evil, I must know the particulars about you and Adrian Pucey, that motherfucker! He never told a soul!"

"Well, now, he wouldn't, would he," she stammered, trying to remove her hands from his, though it was futile. "And there's not much to tell."

"He was that bad was he? I always thought he would be. He has that look about him." Blaise gave her a haughty look. He let go of her hands, but remained straddling her waist.

She sighed. "No, it wasn't bad, but it was only once, and I shouldn't have said anything."

"Was it recently?"

She nodded. "Not that recent, but it was the last time I had sex." She began to push at him in earnest, swatting at his thighs. "That's enough questions, get off me. I won't tell you any more about it." He moved his leg so that she could turn to her side. Facing away from him she added, "You won't tell anyone, will you?"

Rubbing his hand up and down her arm he said, "I won't tell a soul, I promise." He kissed her shoulder and added, "But I must ask another question." She gazed at him over her shoulder. "You don't love him, do you?"

Turning back to her back, she said, "Oh, no. No, I don't love him, it's nothing like that."

"I didn't think so," he said softly. "May we get back to the subject of marriage? Why aren't you married, little cub? That can be my fourth question. I don't count asking if you love Adrian as question four."

Hermione sighed and moved to the side of the bed. Sitting up, she stared at the far side of the wall. "Why are we back to that tired subject?" On her bedside table was the book where she'd placed the second page of her list. Looking at it, she thought about how much she longed to be married. "It just isn't something that's possible for me." Starting to stand, she was halted by a large male hand on her arm.

She looked over her shoulder at him. Sitting up in the middle of the bed, he promised, "I won't ask anymore marriage related questions. Come back and let's finish our talk."

With a wicked grin, she sat back down. She decided turnabout was fair game. In jest, she asked, "Okay, but it's my turn to ask questions. How many men have you been with?"

She asked it as a joke, but he turned quiet. She had given him the perfect opportunity to reveal his secret to her. Looking up at the ceiling, he answered, "I really haven't counted. Unlike you, with only four partners, I've been with so many men and women that I've lost count. Sorry."

And all she could say was…"Oh." It was a stupid response, but she couldn't think of anything else to say because she was taken aback by his admission.

Sensing that she was stunned into silence, he asked seriously, "Does that answer shock you?"

"Yes," she answered honestly. Turning to face him on the middle of the bed, she asked, "Does that mean you're a homosexual?"

He laughed. "You're such a little Gryffindor. 'Are you a homosexual' my arse. Only you would ask that, point blank, no holds barred, no blinking of your eyes, no qualms."

"Well, I'm sorry. Should I not ask?" The kitten was back up on the bed and had climbed up on her knees. She began to stroke its head.

He stroked the cat's back at the same time. "No, you can ask. I'm not homosexual. I guess if I had to define it, I would be called bisexual. I believe in loving the person, whether that person is a male or a female is unimportant. I'm attracted to them as an individual, not a gender, if you understand. Does that shock you?"

She smiled and announced, "No. I had an uncle who was gay, my mother's cousin is a lesbian, and Charlie Weasley is gay, although that's supposed to be a secret, so don't tell anyone. It doesn't matter to me. Do any of the other Vipers know?"

Blaise studied the little cat's fur carefully, swallowed a lump in his throat, and without looking up at her said, "No."

"That's a shame. They're your best friends. You shouldn't have to hide something so important about yourself." Hermione placed the kitten back on the floor and took his hand in hers. "You said you believe in being in love with the person, not the gender. Are you in love right now? I guess what I'm trying to ask is, well, the same thing you asked me before. Are you in love with someone but you're afraid of letting them know who and what you really are?"

He looked up at her quickly. "Why would you ask me that?"

"You just seem, I don't know, sad. There's an underlying melancholy about you. It dawned on me that if you're hiding something as important as your sexuality from your friends, it might be because you have deep feelings for one of them. That's a heavy weight to carry upon your shoulders. I understand that sort of feeling. We tend to hide a lot from those in which we feel a lot."

He smiled slowly, and then tackled her again, causing her to shriek with laughter. Rolling with her on the bed so that she was lying on top of him, he said, "That sounded like some bloody Muggle psychology book."

She grinned and ducked her head into the crook of his neck. Goodness, but he smelled good. And perhaps he had the right of it. Perhaps loving someone for WHO they were, and not WHAT they were, was the right way to love. He began to stroke her hair and back, rolling a half-roll so they were face to face on the bed.

"Let me make the same observation about you, Granger." She looked up from his chest when he spoke. "Here you are, rolling all over the bed with me, and I know your outing with Draco yesterday probably wasn't completely chaste. Your outing tomorrow with Marcus and company is bound to be a revelation on that front as well. Yet you've admitted to being with only four men. You kept your virginity until you were twenty, losing it to a man you no doubt loved, and thought at one time you were to marry."

"And?" she prompted.

"And," he continued, his hand cupping her face, "your recent sexual freedom is out of character for the Hermione Granger we knew and were scared of in school. Which again makes me wonder why you're doing the things you're doing and what it is that you're hiding?"

She stiffened slightly in his arms. Did he know? Did he suspect? Did he know about her curse? Why did he think she was hiding anything? "I don't know where you're getting your information, Blaise, but I haven't gone so far over on the dark side as all of that. There's been no recent sexual freedom on my part and I'm not hiding a thing."

"Really? I wager simply kissing Malfoy is out of character for the prim and proper Hermione Granger. I bet my last galleon the old Hermione wouldn't be on a bed with me of all people. If you can't be honest about those things, and the fact that you really do want to explore your baser sexual feelings, then there's no point in me asking you again if you're in love one of the Vipers. And to think, I was honest with you about my sexual proclivity, but never mind. Perhaps you're even doing all of this with Malfoy and me to try to get this other Viper's attention, or to make them jealous? If that's the case, I want no part of it. I won't be used like that."

She relaxed slightly in his arms, only because he had it so wrong, not because she wasn't angry by his accusations. "Believe me, no one can be used if they don't want to be used, and jealousy has absolutely nothing to do with my newfound sexual freedom, as you call it. I'm not even sure I'd call it that. I'm still basically the same person inside, with the same mindset, morals and emotions. Just because I'm letting all of you help me with my list doesn't change all of that."

"And I would think you of all people wouldn't judge me. If I choose to love someone and never tell them, that's my prerogative. I have a feeling you know all about that, Blaise."

He felt thoroughly chastised. "Forgive me, darling girl. I didn't mean to offend you." He brought her hands up to his mouth, kissed one, then the other. "I know what type of woman you are. You're the type of woman that would make a bunch of snakes want to discard their old skins for new ones. You make us all want to be better men. We aren't asking you to be less of a person because of it, though."

Running a finger down her face he added, "There's nothing wrong with showing love and admiration in all sort of ways, including, pardon my language, fornication."

Before she could comment again, he placed a finger on her lips. "I'm not asking for the moon here, cub. I'm asking you to be the brave woman that I know you to be, that's all."

"You think it would be brave of me to throw all caution to the wind and do what? Make love to all of you? Do you want me to do it with each of you individually, or at the same time? And if I don't do this, I'm not the brave Gryffindor you've always thought I was, is that the measure of it? In the meanwhile, you aren't even brave enough to answer my question as to whether you were in love with one of the Vipers, so why should I answer yours?"

Now it was his turn to become rigid in her arms. Holding her just as close as before, he said, "Why would you assume that I had feeling for one of my fellow Vipers? I never mentioned anything about them." Goodness. Hermione Granger, the smart, fierce little Gryffindor lion cub, had figured it all out on her own.

Hermione froze. He didn't mention that, did he? She tried to push him away, determined to get away from him one last time. He let her go easily. Without another word to him, she began to pick up all the clothing that they had thrown all around her room. He stayed on the bed, crossing his feet at the ankle, one arm over his eyes and the kitten back on his stomach.

With a feigned air of nonchalance, he watched her out of a small sliver under his arm that was over his eye. How had she figured out that he was in love with one of the Vipers? Did she know which one? Was it the same one that she loved? Suddenly, he DID feel as if a heavy weight was on his chest as he watched her quietly going about picking up her clothing, shoes, and various other articles of clothing.

Leaping from the bed with a sudden cat-like grace while she was in her closet hanging up clothing, Blaise stood beside the open closet door, against the wall, arms folded in front of him. He realized he must have touched a nerve with Granger. He must have touched a nerve and been right on mark. He was an observant man - as observant as she was any day.

He had a sinking suspicion that they were in love with the same man, and if that was the case, then Merlin help them both, because he wasn't so certain that Viper was capable of loving anyone in return.

Hermione walked out of her closet, looked toward her rumpled bed and saw it was empty. Apparently, Blaise had left. She must have offended him. Feeling suddenly tired and slightly defeated, she wanted nothing more than a spot of tea, a nice bath, and then bed. Deciding to take the bath before the tea, she pulled her shirt over her head, stepped out of her jeans, and started toward the door of the bedroom in only her knickers and bra.

"You didn't show me that bra and knickers set today," Blaise said from his place by the wall.

Hermione turned slowly, not surprised to hear his voice, and not bothering to cover herself with her arms. "I thought you'd left."

"I thought you told me you only had white bras and knickers. Those knickers have dots on them, and the bra is blue."

She looked down, then back up to his eyes. "Blaise." She said nothing else, just his name. She didn't know his intentions, nor did she care to know. She only knew that they had come to a strange sort of communion this afternoon and that they had pushed some boundaries, left it with a strange sort of ugly feeling, and now she was weary of it all. "You need to leave," she finally stated.

"Not before you answer my last question." The light coming from outside was growing a pale orange as afternoon approached evening. His face was cast in a weird and wonderful sort of illumination, which made him seem even more handsome, sadder, and somewhat dangerous.

Perhaps she had pushed him too much earlier. She didn't care, nor did she care to ask another question. "No more questions," she announced. "I can't stand the thought." She didn't want to think of the ramification of his last question. Her heart sank with the mere thought of it. She felt helpless and alone and overburdened. She wanted him to leave. All the earlier playfulness had evaporated, and soon it would vanish from her mind completely if he insisted on asking his last question, or answering hers.

"Please leave." She pulled a dressing gown off a hook from the back of her door and placed it around her shoulders.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, knees together, feet apart, head lowered, hands in her lap, Blaise thought she looked overcome. He didn't want her to feel that way. "It's only a simple question, little lion cub. You owe me one more."

With a great heave of her shoulders, she said, "I owe you nothing, but fine, one more, go on, ask your question."

"Do you love Theo?"

She looked up at him with eyes wide with surprise, and he knew his guess was right. She didn't even need to answer him. His lips tightened grimly. At least they both had excellent taste in men. But why did she seem so sad and resigned about it all?

True, Theo seemed distant and aloof and acted as if he wasn't lovable, but that wasn't the case. Not if two of the most lovable people Blaise knew, (him and Hermione) were in love with the man. Now they would have to prove it to him. Blaise knew what he had to do. He could never tell Theo how he felt, but he could help Hermione show Theo how SHE felt.

Blaise rather felt like Hermione was his own little Pygmalion. Not only would he help her to dress for her task with Marcus and then help her to sing for _his _task, but he would also help Theo fall in love with her.

If Theo would never love him in return, at least Theo could love Hermione. In addition, Blaise could have a piece of that love as well.

Dropping to his knees, he wrapped his arms around her legs. "Don't answer me, Hermione. You don't have to, because I already know the answer." Reaching up, he cupped her cheek with his hand.

She reached down and placed her hand in his short, black hair. His slate black eyes were smiling up at her. His hand reached inside her dressing gown and pulled one shoulder of the gown down, then the other. "I know who you love, because I love him, too," he continued. "There, I answered your question also."

He kissed one bare shoulder. His hands went down her arms, feeling the gooseflesh in their wake. "And I think we should love each other, while we wait for him to discover his love for one of us," he finished. Though in the end, he knew Theo would only have love for her, as it probably should be.

The air between them was thick and profound. He stood and with an ease that she envied, he stripped out of his shirt, his fingers fly over the buttons, and then his jeans, standing before her completely naked. He was glorious in every way. Standing mere centimeters from her, muscles rippling, his brown skin glistening with a fine sheen, she refused to let him see that she was slightly confused by his actions, that she was intimidated, yet in awe and incredibly anxious.

Trying to maintain a level of dignity, she said, "You said you love the person, not the gender, but you don't love me, so what's happening here?"

"Oh, sweet little innocent cub," he said lightly, though not in a mocking manner, a half grin on his lips. "I can't deny that you intrigue me. I desire you. I want you. You're beautiful. And there's always that thing about overcoming ones fears, too. Your fears and mine. We might as well overcome them together."

He hooked his arm around her waist, forcing her to stand, only to throw her back on the bed again. Slithering to her, almost like the snake that he was, with a grin upon his face, he continued, "Remember, I said I was afraid of you in school. And I can tell you're afraid of me, or at least what I represent."

"What do you think you represent?" she asked, her hands folded over her heart.

"I represent all the things that you're afraid of letting go." He kissed her knee. "You're afraid of being free of your old morals and code of conducts." He kissed her hip. "You're afraid of sexual freedom." He kissed her waist. "You're afraid of being the real you." He unfolded her hands and kissed her cleavage. "You're afraid of being afraid. Well, be afraid no longer. Blaise is here now."

A quick stream of laughter burst from her lips and then she squeaked, "You're a tease. I shall commence in calling you Mr. Tease from now on, for that's nonsense." Although her toes were curling and her breathing was rapid.

"Oh, sweet cub, I'm not about to tease you, and you'll be calling out something, but I rather think it's going to be my name, or else you'll be you begging me for more, possibly both." He licked the long column of her neck, while one hand squeezed a bra-covered breast.

"Blaise, stop it," she said, pushing against his chest. "This is all a joke, right?" Her blood pulsed in her veins quicker than she ever remembered, and she found each breath heaving out of her lungs, especially when he hooked his fingers under the straps of her bra and tugged until it was gone.

Covering her chest, she insisted, "What's about to happen here?"

Moving first one arm from her chest, then the other, he placed a kiss right in the center of her chest, over her heart, and he answered, "We're about to change one of your answers from this afternoon from four men to five men. And you can consider this payment to one of the pipers, little cub."

His mouth skimmed across hers, searing her lips with what felt like caresses, not kisses. Moving from her mouth down to her neck, behind her ear, he bit her earlobe and said, "You're a beautiful woman, Hermione."

She felt beautiful, lying under him. Everything felt like a dream. He removed her knickers and continued to kiss and touch her. Though she wondered WHY she would allow this, she knew she wasn't going to stop it, so she decided she might as well enjoy it instead.

Her hands went to his shoulders and back, over his chest. His skin was dark and smooth, his muscles well defined. Her hand traveled down to grip him, and he gasped, gazed into her eyes, and said, "My cub has courage," and then he took her mouth again. His right hand was on her left breast, while his mouth devouring her lips with a fierce kiss, tongue plunging in, as he grew harder, longer, thicker in her hands.

Moving away from her, he removed her hands from him and said, "No more of that right now."

His black eyes bored into hers as he placed his hand between her thighs, his mouth upon one breast. He sucked and pulled at her breast even as he fondled and stroked her.

Closing her eyes, she felt such exquisite pleasure. He stopped for only a moment to kneel between her knees. Bringing her legs up with his arms, he lay before her, using his hands, lips and mouth to bring her to pleasure. He made her scream, over and over again.

As she lay listless, but lissome on the bed, he crawled up her, kissing her body all over as he did. Her thigh, hip, stomach, right breast, neck, and then her mouth again. Once he was completely on top of her, he finally pushed into her, only to immediately draw back out. Opening her eyes, she watched his face as he repeated that movement several times; completely in, then completely out, before he settled on a motion that was so sublime, so sweet, she almost wept with joy.

When she was writhing underneath him, clutching his shoulders, grabbing his arse, pulling him deeper, he knew she was close, so his mouth left her breasts to come back to her lips. He kissed her when they came together. It was fierce and explosive and he continued to kiss her. He was deep inside her, perhaps all the way to her soul, and when he stopped kissing her, she was still panting under him, her head moving side to side.

He couldn't remember the last time he felt so complete after having had sex. The reason was clear – it was her.

He rolled off her, both of them pleased and replete, when he realized something. Hermione Granger WAS too good for the lot of them, just as they always suspected when they were young, but who cared about that?

Her eyes began to close, and her breathing became easy and regular. He pulled her to him, pulled the covers over them both, placed the kitten on the pillow between their heads, and then he closed his eyes as well.

Drifting off to sleep, Blaise realized something else. Today was a day of 'firsts' for him. He'd never had a conversation with Hermione Granger before. He'd never had SEX with Hermione Granger before! He'd never had such a nice afternoon spent merely picking out clothing and then lounging around talking. He'd never had 'a girlfriend' before. He'd never even petted a cat before, yet this little kitten was somewhat nice. He'd never told anyone that he was bisexual. He'd never revealed to anyone that he was in love with a fellow Viper.

His biggest secret – the fact that he was in love with Theo – was still a secret to everyone save for her, which was okay by him, because she was in love with him, too.

Stroking the kitten's fur, Blaise opened his eyes and said to the little cat in a whisper, "I don't like the names Dante or Nero. I think I'll call you Caligula."


	10. Chapter 10 Fool on the Hill

**All characters belong to JK Rowling**

**Chapter 10 – Fool on the Hill**

All of her life Hermione loved writing letters. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that when she told a story to a person in a letter, she could be as eloquent as she wanted to be. She could be as longwinded, passionate, descriptive and as expressive as her heart desired. There was no one there to interrupt her. She could put as much flourish to a story as she wanted to put to it, or she could play down the harsher realities of an often callous world.

She loved to relay a story in prose. She loved to write things out, build up the tension, tease the reader with interesting tidbits. Each paragraph could be more graphic than the next. It was sort of like Malfoy and his painting…he made a person 'see' things with his paints. Hermione made a person see things with her words.

Her love of writing didn't only include letters. She loved writing poems, short stories, essays, lyrics, articles. Anything. Her love of writing went hand-in-hand with her love of reading.

And though she had never pursued her dream of writing fiction and poetry for a living, she had never giving up writing long and interesting letters to her loved ones and friends. She had been writing such long, interesting letters to Harry Potter since their first summer apart from Hogwarts, and though he rarely wrote her in return, it hardly matter. She still wrote him, like clockwork, because she loved writing letters so very much.

However, the letter she wrote to Harry a few days ago was very different from her normal letters. She wrote to him to explain that Draco Malfoy and his friends (whom she did not name) had decided to help her complete her 'to do' list. She quipped – _'wasn't that nice of them?_' but she didn't elaborate. She didn't prolong her story. If anything, she made the entire thing seem ordinary, boring, if even a bit prosaic.

That was where she had gone wrong.

Harry knew her better than that. He knew of her penchant toward longwinded tales in handwritten form. Therefore, when she wrote that one simple sentence regarding Draco Malfoy, his mates, and her list, she immediately sent Harry into high alert. He knew she was hiding something. He knew she was playing things down.

As a result, he wrote her back.

Likewise, as much as Hermione loved writing letters, she loved receiving them even more. Nevertheless, the letter she just received from Harry disturbed her. She found it on her doormat that morning, right as she was about to take a walk. She had already showered, eaten breakfast and fed her cat. Blaise was long gone, having apparently left sometime during the night.

Hermione laughed, seeing that Blaise had an inclination for letters, too. He left her a nice one on her pillow that said, _"I renamed your cat Caligula. You're out of milk. See you later, Blaise."_

Hermione started out her door, saw the letter from Harry on her doormat, picked up the sealed correspondence, opened it, began to read it on her way down the stairs, and then stopped to rest on stone bench in Theo's overgrown garden near his seldom-used patio. Harry wanted to know exactly what was going on with her, Draco Malfoy and who else was involved and why. He wanted to know immediately. If he didn't get his answers from her, he said he would get them from someone else.

She folded the short epistle from her best friend, placed it back in the envelope and sighed. She would have to write him back. She wasn't sure what she would say, but she couldn't tell him the truth. Though she had never lied to him a day in her life, she knew that she would have to keep parts of her story from him for his own good. Pulling her wand out of her pocket, she summoned parchment and pen to her from her flat. Once she had all that she needed to start her letter, she sat there, and for the first time in her life, nothing came to her mind. She couldn't think of a thing to write to Harry. She didn't have any idea what she was going to write to him. No clue at all.

Somehow, though, the morning passed her by, because she began to write other things. She wrote a few poems. She wrote a short essay. She wrote her thoughts and feelings on how she presently felt and she wrote about her worries and fears. She even wrote out her 'last will and testament'.

As afternoon approached, so did Adrian Pucey, from an old iron gate at the back edge of the overgrown garden. Looking up from her writing, she nodded in greeting. "Hello, old friend," she said with a smile. She picked up her many pages, straightened them, and turned them upside down, placing her pen on top of the multiple sheets. "How fair thee?" she said sweetly.

"How fair thee? What an odd greeting, and what's with the 'old' remark? Are you referring to my age?" he asked back, a strange look on his face. He felt her forehead. "Are you feverish? You seem to be in a happy mood."

She knocked his hand off her forehead. "Why shouldn't I be in a happy mood? And you are old, compared to me. Three years older, to be exact."

"More like two and a half and the better question should be - why are you so happy all the time?" he returned, sitting down on a bench across from her.

Glaring at him, she asked, "Why shouldn't I be happy?"

He didn't answer that question, instead he moved to sit beside her. "What are you writing? I hope you aren't adding more things to do on your list."

"I wouldn't have the time to complete them if I did anyway," she said back, flippantly. "No, I started writing Harry a letter in response to one he wrote to me, but I couldn't figure out a way to tell him exactly how the Vipers where helping me without giving him a heart attacked. Then I decided that I couldn't write Harry without writing Ron, and if I wrote Ron, I'd have to drop a line to Charlie and Bill, and then…well…I just decided to write something else."

"So you wrote to me instead?" he teased.

"Why would I write you, old man? No. I just decided not to write anyone. I've been writing other things as an alternative."

The wind blew a tendril of her hair forward, into her eyes. Hermione reached up and brushed it back at the same time that he leaned forward to do it. He pulled back his hand, awkwardly. A small brown kitten leaped from a table beside them down to the ground.

Adrian remarked, "Wait until Theo finds out a cat's taken residence in his back garden. Not that he would notice much back here."

"Oh, why is that?" Hermione asked. She reached down and placed the kitten in her lap.

"He hates cats," Adrian supplied. He took the cat from her lap. "It's best you not get too attached to it. Theo won't let you keep it." Placing the kitten on the ground, he said, "Run along, cat."

Hermione looked around the garden. "I was actually referring to the garden, as it looks like he hates it as well. This place is overgrown. For a man whose home looks as if no one lives in it, and who is as meticulous with his things as Mr. Nott is, I'm surprised that he's not equally fastidious with his gardening."

Adrian looked as if he wanted to comment on that, but instead said, "Marcus Flint sent me by to deliver a message to you. He's standing you up tonight."

"Oh no, why?" Hermione asked without any real conviction. Even though she was looking forward to her night out with Marcus, she didn't really want to face Blaise tonight. She went back to writing on her parchment.

"He got the opportunity to officiate a tournament up in Scotland, and he couldn't pass it up as he needs the money, but he said he'd make it up to you. He's rescheduling for Saturday night."

She looked up from her writing and decided, "That hardly constitutes standing me up, does it? He changed it for Saturday night. He had to work. Some people do, you know?" She glanced up once, frowned and said, "Of course you don't know." Returning to her writing, she continued, "You don't have to work. I forgot. You work for fun." Placing the parchment back on the bench by her leg she asked, "Is your work fun, Adrian? Have you had a lot of fun in your job in the last, oh say, year of so?"

Adrian frowned at her jab regarding his job. "Are you having fun with your claws out, Miss Kitty? If not, please put them away and remember that I'm not your enemy. Anyway, he told me, and I quote, 'tell the little Gryffindor she has her whole life to get pissed anyway,' unquote." He moved back to the bench opposite her.

Hermione began to toe a pebble on the ground with her shoe. She moved it between two large flagstones that was apparently part of the overgrown patio. "And what did you say to that bogus statement?" She didn't look up as she asked this.

"What could I say?" Adrian shrugged. Hermione looked up. "I guess I could have said, actually Marcus, thanks to me, our dear little pet project only has six months to live, so you'd better not put her off too long."

Hermione picked up the stack of parchment that from the stone bench beside her, riffled through them, came to a sheet, and furiously began to write something. He leaned over on his bench; hands clasped between his legs, and asked, "What are you writing now?" She ignored him. She usually did. He stood, only to sit beside her again, unannounced, uninvited, and peered over her shoulder. Aloud, he read, "Last will and testament of Hermione Jean Granger." Making a disgusted snort, he added, "Really? Tell me you're not serious."

"As serious as I can be," she rebuked with her attention still on her piece of paper. "And I'm taking Marcus out of my will."

Adrian laughed, because he thought it had to be a joke, but then he saw that she was still writing. He grabbed the sheet of parchment from her, ignoring her protests, stood up and began to read. "What the hell, Granger!" he shouted. "This is almost complete! You've already written it!" He read the first few paragraphs silently, and then he said, "You're leaving me someone named Bob? Who the hell is Bob and why are you leaving me a person?"

"He's not a person, you daft ape!" she yelled, hitting his arm with the other sheets of parchment in her hand. "He's the brown kitten roaming around here! Theo and Marcus gave him to me earlier this week as a housewarming present, and since, as you so eloquently stated moments before, it's your fault I'm dying, I thought you should take care of him after I'm gone!" Looking into his hazel eyes, she said, "It might as well be you as anyone else."

Adrian balled the 'will' into his fist and threw it at her. It bounced off her chest and landed on the ground. "Who names a cat 'Bob'?"

"I do!" She leaned over, picked up the 'will' and began to press out the wrinkles with her hands.

"That's the stupidest name I've ever heard!"

"Better than Dante, or Nero or Caligula!" she argued.

"I agree, it's better than those effing names, but who said anything about them?" Adrian asked. With his hands out to the sides, he looked up to the sky and added, "Please, give me strength not to kill her now!"

"As if you could!" Hermione spat. Then she placed her papers on the bench, her wand on top, and she pushed him as hard as she could. He stumbled backwards and fell over the bench where he had been sitting earlier. She stood over him, shaking in fury. Pointing her finger at him she said, "You should be happy that I'm willing to leave you my kitten! I could leave you nothing! You deserve to be left nothing!"

"I'd rather have your collection of inkwells than your cat," he joked from his place on the ground. He wondered how everything had gotten so somber, so quickly.

"Those goes to Percy Weasley," she returned seriously, sitting back on the bench.

He stood with a sigh. "Hermione, I think you need to see someone."

She looked up at him slowly. "I'm looking at you right now."

"You know what I mean."

"I won't see another Healer, or another curse-breaker. And if you insist on me seeing another expert on dark magic or another Unspeakable, I think I'll scream. I'm through with all of that. Leave me be. You're not my boss any longer." She picked up her pile of parchments and Muggle pen from the bench, and pointed toward the gate at the far end of the garden. "Leave."

"No, I won't leave, and you can't make me," he taunted. "And you know I don't mean another Healer, or curse-breaker. I think you need to see a therapist. You're not handling this right. You're not in your right mind. You're acting too blasé about it all one moment, the next moment you're making up your will, and it's not normal. It's not healthy."

She stormed over to him and poked him in the chest with her finger. "How would you know? When was the last time you were dying in six months? How would you know what's normal and what's not? And what would you have me do, Adrian Pucey? Cry all the time? You think I haven't cried? That shows you what you know! I've cried buckets full of tears! Rivers full, no – oceans full of tears, but they won't change anything! I've cried, but that doesn't mean I want to give up on living! I won't give up on living, while I still have a little bit of living left!"

"At least tell the other lads the truth about what's going on!" he hissed. "You're lying to them, playing with their emotions. They have the right to know!"

"What right do they have?" she asked back. Shocked by his words, she almost recoiled at his rebuke. "I'm not lying to them! I'm not playing with their emotions!"

"But you are!" he returned.

"You think you know it all," she volleyed back. "You think you can pull everyone's strings, and make everyone do your bidding, well I have news for you, Adrian, you're not a god. Not even close. You're no deity I've ever heard of, and what's more, you can't bend everyone's will to your liking! I'll do what I want when I want!"

She turned to walk away from him, but he grabbed her arm to make her stay. "Not with my friends, you won't," he insisted.

"You're the one who brought me here! You – you forced Theo to open up his third floor to me! He didn't want me living here. You told me about the Vipers, more or less. You had to have some greater plan, some master design for all of this!" She began to cry, not knowing why, not able to stop. "And now you want me to stop lying to your friends? Why don't you tell them the truth first, then I will!"

"What truth do you want me to tell?" he asked her in a strangled whisper.

"Tell them why you sent me on that mission! Tell them the truth of WHY I only have six months to live! When you tell them the 'why' of it, I'll tell them the rest of it."

"You know I never meant for you or the others to be cursed!" he argued.

"Didn't you though?" she disputed, trying to squirm away from his hold.

Adrian held her arm tighter than before. "You really think that lowly of me."

"I really think that honestly of you," she clarified. "Now, let go!" she hissed.

"No. Agree to get help."

"You can't force me to do anything!"

"Agree!"

"I agree you're insane!" she leveled.

"Agree!"

"LET GO OF MY ARM!"

Theo opened the back door at the sound of their arguing. He didn't walk through it, but stopped at the threshold. "Adrian, let go of Miss Granger's arm."

Leaning against the doorjamb with an ease he didn't feel, he folded his arms in front of him, so that he wouldn't grab for his wand, which was what he was itching to do the moment he saw Adrian grab her arm from his upstairs window. He continued to watch the tableau unfold, silent to him, though even from his upstairs perch he knew they were arguing. It was only when it was apparent that Adrian wasn't going to let go of her arm, and that Granger wasn't going to get away from him, that Theo decided to come downstairs and show himself.

Adrian looked toward his friend and said, "Really, Theo, this isn't the time or place. Go back inside. This is a private conversation, isn't it, Hermione?"

"I'll give you until the count of three to let go of my arm, and then I'll knock you on your arse, wand or not," Hermione threatened evenly. "One, Two…"

Adrian let go of her arm before she made it to three. She picked up her pieces of parchments, her Muggle pen, and her wand and ran all the way up the stairs and inside the door. A piece of parchment wafted out of her pile and fell to the ground during her retreat, and she didn't even notice. Theo stood on the stoop and stared at her retreating figure until she was gone.

Then he turned his glare to Adrian. "What was that about?" Theo asked his friend.

Adrian looked down toward the piece of paper that had fallen from Hermione's pile of parchments. The little brown kitten ran over to it and plopped down upon it. He picked them both up, looked the paper over quickly, and then placed it on the same stone bench where she was seated moments earlier.

To the kitten he said, "You need a strong name. I think I'll call you Zeus. He was a Greek god." Placing the kitten on the ground, he turned to Theo and said, "If you want to know what this is all about, why don't you come out here and read this to find out? Oh, that's right; you no longer can set foot out in your own garden, can you? Merlin, the whole lot of you have so many scars and secrets that I don't know why I even bother."

He turned to go, but then pulled out his wand. With a simple spell, he affixed the parchment to the stone bench, turned back to Theo and said, "I didn't want to make it easy for you. Wouldn't want you to use a simple Accio spell to retrieve it. If you want it, you should work for it. If you want her, you should have to work for her, too. Nevertheless, she's worth it. Tell her Marcus will pick her up at eight on Saturday night." Then he Disapparated away.

Theo stared at the piece of parchment on the bench. "Fucking, Adrian." Taking a deep breath, he placed one foot outside on the first step leading out to the garden, down to the stone patio that sat under a grove of trees. Then he froze. He couldn't do it. He hated himself, but he just couldn't walk over to the bench without bringing up all sorts of bad thoughts.

But maybe he could Apparate to the bench. Surely, he could do that. Biting his bottom lip, he Apparated over to the stone bench on the patio.

Standing amongst the stone benches, near the stone table, he began to breathe hard. It had been well over a year since he'd been in his own back garden. Closing his eyes, he sat down firmly on the stone bench, and swallowed down the nausea that threatened to overwhelm him.

Only Adrian knew the reason WHY he couldn't face his own bloody back yard. Only Adrian knew what a fucking coward he was. The rest of his friends knew bits and pieces of his harrowing story. They knew why he would never be whole again, why he would never love again, why he couldn't open his heart again, but only Adrian knew why he couldn't come back HERE.

Yet Adrian forced him to do that very thing.

Well, forced was a strong word. Adrian didn't force him to retrieve the piece of parchment that had floated from Hermione's pile of papers. Just like everything else to do with the Muggleborn Princess, he was curious about her. Still, he couldn't believe mere curiosity was enough to make him forget his own fears and anxieties that he would come back here…back to the 'scene of the crime' as it was.

Never mind, he was here, he might as well sit down and read what was written on this parchment. It might prove important. It might give him some insight as to what Adrian Pucey knew regarding Granger that the rest of them didn't know. It might show him what she was hiding from the rest of them.

So he read.

* * *

**_My Heart is Dying_**

_My heart is cold_

_It beats out of time_

_To a song no one knows,_

_There's no warmth,_

_And I'm all by myself,_

_I can barely hear it now that it's almost done._

_My heart is afraid_

_It's without love or grace,_

_Full of darkness and sadness,_

_And I'm afraid to cry,_

_Though my last days are barren and alone._

_My heart is dying,_

_I can't seem to say that aloud,_

_I want to tell someone,_

_And I want them to sing it for me_

_So I won't be forgotten when I'm gone._

* * *

Theo read the poem two more times, then walked across the cobbled stones of the patio of his back garden, forgetting his own fears and apprehension about the place, and he started toward the stairs leading up to the flat above his house. He wanted some answers, and he wanted them now.


	11. Chapter 11 Nowhere Man

**All characters belong to JK Rowling**

**Chapter 11 –Nowhere Man**

Theodore Nott hated secrets unless they were his own. If they were his secrets than he held them as a necessary evil – unavoidable. However, he absolutely, positively hated that other people had secrets in which he wasn't aware. It meant that he couldn't have any level of control over them. It meant that he couldn't predict what the other person would do. It meant that he couldn't predict what HE would do. It meant that he didn't know everything and he hated not knowing everything!

Even more than he hating secrets, he hated lies. Again, unless they were his lies. Although if he were truthful, (and how bloody truthful could a liar be?) Theo was a terrible liar, which might account for his hatred of falsehoods. He hated deceit of all kind. He grew up in a household where lying and secrets were part of the norm, and he hated it as much then as he did now.

He should change his edict to a simpler statement - _He hated liars_. That covered people who kept secrets and the lies that came out of their mouths as a product of keeping their secrets.

Lies and secrets made Theo Nott feel out of control. Some people could spout off a falsehood with infinite ease, like Malfoy. To Draco Malfoy, telling a lie was as easy as breathing…it came second nature to the man. Adrian Pucey 'kept things' like secrets, from people for their own good. He would tell a person only as much as the person absolutely had to know. Marcus Flint never really told lies, or kept out and out secrets. Instead, he told outlandish stories and tales. He embellished everything from how much money he had to how long his cock was. To him he wasn't lying as much as he was 'stretching' the truth. Then there was Blaise. Theo knew that Blaise kept perhaps more secret than the rest of them, but he kept secrets to protect himself FROM others, so really, was that a bad thing?

Unlike his Slytherin friends, Theo Nott was NOT a good liar. He stammered when he lied, shifted his weight from side to side, tended to shift his gaze up and down. He also couldn't keep a secret that didn't involve himself worth a damn. If the secret was about someone else, he was like a sieve – he just couldn't hold the information inside - it would always trickle out one way or another. Nevertheless, if the secret were about him it would remain locked inside forever.

The reason he was an abysmal liar, and the reason he hated when others held secrets inside, were that secrets and lies had once almost cost him his very life, and had in fact, cost him the life of someone he held very dear. Each of his friends knew different things about his past, and since they were all such accomplished liars and could keep such good secrets, none of them knew the entire sordid story. And he liked it that way.

He needed to have a modicum of control over his life and his surroundings or he would explode! For some reason, ever since Miss Granger had come to live above his townhouse a week ago, he had felt that control slipping away. He didn't like that. Not at all.

Especially as he had a suspicion that she was keeping secrets from him, and more to the point, she might even be lying to them all. If he found out she was doing either, he wasn't quite sure what he would do.

But he would do something.

He marched up to Hermione's flat after her late afternoon argument with Adrian, knocked on the door, and was shocked to find that it was slightly ajar. Probably so her cat could come in and out by itself. He stuck his head inside, her 'dying heart' poem clutched firmly in his grasp, and he called out, "Miss Granger?"

Suddenly, the little kitten pounced over to him, sideways, and then stood before him and hissed.

Theo hissed right back at the thing. Opening the door, he stepped inside, nudged the kitten away from the door with his foot, and walked deeper into the flat. Figuring he was already uninvited, he might as well explore.

He called her name once more, though he lacked the conviction to say it very loud. "Granger?" Leaving off the 'Miss' this time, he waited for an answer that never came. Walking straight toward the bedroom, he pushed open that door with the palm of his hand and then stopped.

She was laying on the bed, on her side, her back toward the door. That wasn't the worst of it. She was crying. Gentle tears. Not sobs. Not wails. Nothing loud or obnoxious. If he still had the capacity to care, such a sight might have broken his heart.

Curled up on her side, hugging a pillow to her chest, rocking back and forth, the tears she was crying were no ordinary tears. Even Theo knew that. They weren't tears of a woman who was merely unhappy because she had a spat with her former boss, and current wanker, Adrian Pucey. These tears seemed desperate, desolate, and full of despair.

And he was a witness to them. He didn't want to witness them. This was one secret of hers that he wished he wasn't privy to. He began to move back and forth, shifting his weight uncomfortably from his left foot to his right, (just as he did when he lied!) and a floorboard underneath his foot creaked. He froze in abject horror. Gads! He didn't want her to know he was a witness to this!

She said, "I thought you left."

'_Obviously not,_' he thought, although he wondered how quickly he could Disapparate away.

He didn't know what else to do. He didn't know what to say, when she said, "Are you happy now? You made me cry. That's what you wanted, wasn't it?"

He frowned. Hell no, he didn't want her to cry! He hated crying females almost as much as he hated other people's secrets and lies! How had HE made her cry?

With her back still to him, and with him still standing next to the bed, (but wishing he were outside the door) she continued, "My happy façade has faded. I'm crying because you were right. I'm afraid. There. I said it. I admitted it. I'm scared. I feel all alone and I'm scared and I don't know what to do."

"I hate deceiving everyone, because I've never lied to anyone a day in my life. This secret is hanging over my head like an anvil, ready to smash me to smithereens any moment, and I feel so utterly helpless to continue as I am, but I know I can't tell the other Vipers the truth because they wouldn't want to carry on and continue to help me. You forced me to admit that you were right and I was wrong, now what are you going to do about it, Adrian?"

_Adrian?_

She thought he was Adrian! What in the world was she blubbering about? Why was she sad? Why did she feel alone and scared? What secrets was she keeping from the rest of them, what was going on here, and why would Adrian want her to feel this way?

He approached the bed, sat down upon it, and placed his hand on her arm with every intention of telling her that he wasn't Adrian. He was going to say… "_It's Theo, Granger. I don't know what sort of secrets you're keeping with Pucey, or what sort of lies you've been telling the rest of us, but don't cry."_ It sounded lame in his head, but he didn't even get a chance to give it a whirl when she reached up her hand, grasped his and said, "Please, don't say anything. Don't tell me how stupid I've been. Don't give me a lecture. Just be a good friend and stay with me a while."

Laying on her right side, she twined the fingers of her right hand with his left as they sat on her left arm, then covered her face with her left hand and continued to weep, still thinking all along that he was Adrian. When her sobs began to cease, and her breathing became heavier, he thought she might be sleeping. He realized he still had her poem in his other hand, so he leaned forward as far as he could and placed it under a copy of a Muggle book that rested on the bedside table nearest to him.

The book was called, _'To Kill a Mockingbird'_.

He released her hand gently; giving her arm a gentle caress and placing her hand down carefully on the mattress by her body. Then he picked up the book. He'd never heard of it before, so he opened it, curious creature that he was. Glancing back toward her once, he thumbed through the pages of the book, only then realizing that there was a piece of parchment folded up and stored in its pages.

Theo unfolded the parchment, and was shocked to see that the piece of parchment contained the last missing four items of her to do list! He knew that there had to be a number 17 through 20, because Hermione Granger was smart and she wouldn't have numbered her list as "_**Twenty things Hermione Granger wants to do before she turns twenty-seven**_" if there wasn't originally twenty things on her list!

He started to read the list, but was interrupted when the little kitten took that moment to jump up on the bed, surprising him. Theo jumped, the kitten bounced away, and Hermione sat upright, also surprised.

Theo stood quickly, placed the parchment back in the book and threw it toward the table, but it landed on the floor, so in his haste he nudged it hurriedly under the bed with his foot.

"What are you doing in my bedroom?" she asked, also standing up quickly, a bit disoriented, reaching out and almost stumbling.

Theo ran around to her side of the bed in a flash, reached out for her and grabbed her hand to keep her from falling over. "Your, ah, your door, ah, it was open, and, um, I just came in to check to make sure you were alright." She blinked at him. He added, "After your disagreement with Adrian and all."

She almost looked as if she didn't believe him. It was no wonder. He was stumbling over his words, and shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Damn, _he was a terrible liar_.

"Did Adrian just leave?" she asked, rubbing her eyes. She looked at the clock on her bedside table.

"When? What? You mean, just now?" Theo asked. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. "I didn't see him just leave." Fuck. "Maybe. He might have. I don't know. Was he here?"

"Yes, I believe he was here, but then I must have fallen asleep. I wasn't asleep for very long," she reasoned. She looked at their joined hands. "You still have my hand."

"I know." And he did know. And he felt like a complete idiot. But he also rather liked holding her hand. It was a small hand. It fit his rather nicely. It was warm and he was cold. He was in a quandary. Should he drop her hand or keep it in his hold?

They stood there like the pair of dolts that they were, holding hands, when Marcus Flint came bounding into the bedroom. "Hey, children, what are doing holding hands?" He threw himself across her bed, propping his head up on his elbow. "I might get the wrong impression and think that you like each other."

Theo dropped her hand like a hot potato.

Hermione scrambled away across the room. "What are you doing here, and how did you get in?"

"Your door wasn't locked. It was merely pushed closed, but not tight," Marcus explained.

Hermione sighed, looked from one Viper to the next and said, "Adrian must have left it open when he left. Or, no, I left it open when I came in, for Bob to enter, because he was still out in the garden, so maybe when Adrian left he kept it the same."

"Bob?" Marcus sat up on the bed, and gave her a smile. "Who's Bob? Are you cheating on us with a bloke named Bob?"

"Bob's my kitten." She sat down on the other side of the rumpled bed. Theo remained at the end, feeling uneasy.

"Who names a cat Bob?" Marcus laughed.

"For the record, I named him Dante, and I believe Pucey named him Zeus," Theo expounded, finally loosening up and sitting on the end of the bed.

"ZEUS?" Hermione and Marcus exclaimed loudly and in unison. Then they laughed together.

"Better than Bob," Theo mumbled.

Marcus looked at the little kitten as it played in the corner of Hermione's room, pulling on a thread that dangled from the hem of her favourite brown jumper that was thrown across a chair. "I think his named should be Marcus."

"Oh for cripes sakes," Theo huffed. "At least the rest of us gave him names that reflected great human beings, or characters from history."

Hermione began, "There's Marcus Aurelius, the Roman Emperor, 161 to 180 AD, who ruled, oddly enough, with Lucius Verus from 161 until Verus' death in 169. He was considered the last of the five good emperors, and is also…" and she got no further because Marcus leaned over from his place on the bed and put his hand over her mouth and began to laugh.

"Granger, Granger, Granger," he said with a smile. "You truly are an original aren't you? A walking, talking, dictionary, you are." He looked at Theo, who was also smiling for a change.

Theo interjected, "I really believe Marcus was naming your cat after another great Marcus."

Grabbing Marcus' wrist and lowering his hand, she asked, "Oh, who?"

"Himself," Theo answered.

She stood from the bed, shook her head and said, "Anyway, why are you here? Adrian said you were standing me up until Saturday night."

"Things change, sunshine. We're back on schedule. Go get beautiful and we'll be on our way. Dinner, dancing, and drinking. Lots of drinking. Enough to get you totally pissed beyond a care in the world."

"Well, alright then," she answered with a small smile. "Just let me get ready. I think I need something to cheer me up, to take away all my cares."

"A night on the town with me should do it," Marcus boasted, standing as well.

"I meant checking off a task from my list. That should make me happy," she clarified, heading for her closet and shutting herself inside.

Once the men were alone in the bedroom, Marcus said in hushed tones to Theo, "What are you doing here?"

"She dropped a poem she wrote out in the back garden and I was returning it to her." There. Theo could tell the truth.

"A poem?" Marcus looked as if he didn't believe him.

"Yes, a poem. You do know what a poem is, don't you?" Theo spat.

"Yes, you wanker, I know what a poem is," Marcus hissed in return. "But you're lying about something…wait a bloody minute, you deceitful sod. You didn't get a poem from your back garden. You haven't been in your back garden since…"

"Just shut up!" Theo interrupted. "And I was too in the back garden. It holds no sway over me one way or another. It's just a plot of ground. I can walk in it if I want."

Marcus glared at him as if he didn't believe him. "Show me this poem that you supposedly retrieved from your back garden."

"It's right there on her nightstand, under that book," Theo pointed, walking around the bed, to come closer to the other man. Marcus turned around to look. "Wait, I mean, the book fell to the floor, but the poem's still there."

Theo had almost forgotten about the book. It was perfect that Marcus was taking her out tonight. Now he could 'pop' back up in to her flat after she left and he could read the rest of her list, and perhaps he could nose around and find out why she was so sad as well.

Marcus picked up the poem and began to read it and Theo looked down to the floor for the book. Spying it half under the bed, with the folded piece of parchment sticking out, he scooted it under the bed a bit more, to conceal it from Marcus' view. Just then, the door to the walk-in closet opened.

Both men turned, Marcus place the poem behind his back, and they stared with awe and wonder at the woman before them. In only a matter of minutes, she had dressed and changed her makeup and hair. She had transformed herself in to an even more beautiful woman, if that was possible.

"Will I do?" she asked nervously, without coy, not seeking compliments, with all seriousness.

Theo frowned at her insecurity. What an asinine question.

Marcus smiled at her timidity. It was so unlike the brave little Gryffindor who he had come to cherish in such a short time. Marcus held out his arm and said, "You'll do for now. Let's go."

She placed her hand on his arm and they started out of the bedroom, toward the main room of her apartment, with Theo right behind. Hermione turned to Theo as they entered the main room and she said, "I hope you don't mind, but I set up new wards today. They only admit me. That's why I had the door cracked open earlier, because I thought Adrian might come in to apologize, although he never really did apologize when he was here. He never said a word. Anyway, I know you have the place well protected, and it's not like I really have anything of value here, but still, it's a matter of privacy. You understand, right?"

Marcus smiled over her head when he saw the strange look on Theo's face. He suspected that Theo was intended to snoop as soon as they left. Perhaps the little Gryffindor suspected it as well, hence her announcement.

In any case, Theo gave off a haughty stare, shrugged and said, "Whatever. It's your flat. You may protect it however, you deem fit. I have no thought on the subject."

Then he turned sharply and walked out the door, only to Disapparate away once he was outside the threshold.

Marcus looked down at Hermione. "You would only change the wards if you were hiding something, little Gryffindor, some sort of secret." Then he asked, "Did you really change the wards so he couldn't enter?"

"Marcus," she said with a smile, "Do I look like someone who would have secrets or who would lie? Now, let's go get pissed out of our minds!"

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_*Last chapter probably before vacation! Thanks!_


	12. Chapter 12 Happiness is a Warm Gun

**All characters belong to JK Rowling**

**Chapter 12 – Happiness is a Warm Gun**

Hermione Granger and Marcus Flint walked into Blaise's nightclub that night and Hermione was aware that everyone was staring. Indeed, it would not be an understatement to say that all eyes turned their way. While both of them were rather used to the stares, (for different reasons…her for being Harry's best friend, him for once being a famous Quidditch star) at first, Hermione was taken aback and almost faltered at the door.

"Buckle up, little lion," he whispered in her ear, his breath warm on her cheek. "We're about to have a bumpy ride and I for one can't wait."

She smiled. Neither could she.

Entering the club on the arm of Marcus Flint with a genuine smile upon her face, she realized that not even her argument with Adrian or her strange encounter with Theo could dampen her mood tonight. Tonight she felt different. She couldn't explain it if she had to. She felt like a foreign being masquerading as Hermione Granger, if only for one night. Yes, she had slipped off her Hermione Granger skin and had replaced it with a new one and she liked it. She liked it a lot.

If Adrian had accused her of putting on a 'fake façade' before, then she wondered what he would say about the new skin and expression she had donned for her outing tonight. For while it was a bit contrived, it wasn't false or fake. At this very moment in time, she felt happy. Thanks to Marcus Flint and one of the tasks on her list.

For one thing, as she walked into Blaise's exclusive club on the arm of Marcus Flint, she could tell that everyone was staring at her and she didn't even care. The old Hermione would have cared, but the new Hermione wouldn't give a single sickle for what any of these people thought. Everyone was staring at her and that was fine by her!

Some stared at her because she was on the arm of a handsome, affable, good-looking pureblood. That alone garnered her a few stares and turned heads with whispers. Marcus Flint was known to have a long-time girlfriend. Gossipmongers abound! She didn't care. Let them stare. Let them whisper.

Next, they stared because she was a world famous (renown?) Muggle-born (translation: mudblood) and this club was refuted to be an exclusive 'pureblood' only establishment. That too didn't bother her.

Some stared because they expected a certain amount of decorum and reserve from the refuted 'brains' of one third of the golden trio. Hermione Granger, bookworm extraordinaire, would never think about going out to have fun at a pub or nightclub!

Hermione honestly didn't give two figs who stared at her tonight. Tonight she felt pretty. Tonight she was here to have fun. Tonight she was on the arm of a handsome man, and another handsome man, (Blaise) was waving at her from across the room. Tonight she wanted to forget that she had less than six months to live…and just live for tonight!

So let everyone stare! She wanted them to stare. She felt pretty and sexy, she only had six months to live, and she only had one thing accomplished from her list so far, therefore they could stare until their eyes fell out of their sockets!

Marcus motioned to the waiter and gave him their drink order even as they were shown to a table in the center of the club. People began to mill around them, talking and laughing. She didn't hear them. She didn't listen. She began to think about her primary goal for tonight.

For it wasn't to get pissed out of her mind, although she had never once been drunk to the point of excess. It wasn't that Hermione had never drank alcohol, (both Muggle and magical before) because she had. She had imbibed! She was never a teetotaler, although usually two drinks was her limit! Ron called her a lightweight. She just never really enjoyed drinking alcohol and tonight wasn't going to change that. She had never drunk to overindulgence, and she had never once become pissed-faced or enjoyed the joys or sorrows, such as they were, that came with it. Tonight wasn't about getting pissed out of her mind!

That wasn't what this task was about for her.

Tonight's primary task was for Hermione Granger to learn to live for herself instead of for others, even if she only had six months in which to do it! And it all started with tonight!

Sitting down across from Marcus, some strange looking amber drink in her hand, she lifted it to her lips, the taste warm in her mouth, swirling around her taste buds, warming her chest on the way down to her stomach. She concluded that tonight's primary task wasn't about getting pissed-faced but it was about something much more! It was about being free and unencumbered and most importantly of all – it was about being **selfish** for a change. To live life for herself, not for others, and damn the consequences. She was forever putting other people's thoughts, feelings and wants before her own – but not tonight.

Tonight was about her…and a refill if you please.

Marcus didn't say a word. He smiled at her and pushed his drink toward her then motioned to the waiter to bring them two more.

Right, so tonight wasn't about getting pissed out her mind, although that was bound to happen sooner rather than later if she didn't slow down. Apparently Marcus agreed, because he placed a warm, but rough hand on hers, brought her tumbler down and said, "Slow down, little cub. We aren't in a race. Drink slowly."

"You know, getting pissed out of my mind wasn't a task on my list," she explained, picking her glass right back up and taking another drink.

He stared at her amused, sitting back relaxed, legs crossed, sipping slowly from his first drink. "So sorry I was wrong about that. I thought I read it was. Why are we here tonight, then?"

Hermione placed her glass down hard, spilling some of the contents, and she leaned over closely, and said in a conspiratorial gleam, "Oh, no no no, you're not wrong. It was on my list, but getting pissed, dancing, having fun tonight, isn't the real reason I'm here, do you understand, Marcus?"

She looked up at him with large, doe-like eyes and he brushed a strand of hair from her shoulders and said, "I think I do, lion cub. I think I do. You want to do something that's not normally associated with being Hermione Granger, is that it?"

She finished her second glass, held up her hand for another and said, "That's it in a nutshell, Flint, my boy. I want to have fun, sure, play a bit, act silly, and not have to worry about the welfare of others. I want to think of me and only me just for one night. Is that so wrong, Marcus? Is it? I've spent almost my whole life thinking of others, and now I want to think and live for myself, even if it is only for tonight."

The waiter brought two more drinks, though Marcus was still on his first. Hermione took both of them and pulled them to her. Marcus took one of them from her, put it out of reach, and said, "I understand completely, little one. I feel pretty much the same. I'm not like some of the other Vipers. I've not had everything handed to me, like Blaise, and especially Draco. I've had to work hard for what I have, and I have people who depend on me, so I understand."

She placed her third glass down, after almost having drained it in one drink, and waned, "Oh do you really understand, Marcus? Do you? I so want someone to understand me! I feel like I'm not real! I feel as if all of this is empty air around me, and I'm about to float away! I'm not even happy anymore, Marcus!"

That statement was said with such intensity that Marcus frowned for a change. Before he could comment, she added, "How does a person know when they're happy, Marcus? Even before I knew I was dying, I'm not sure I was happy."

Marcus was raising his glass to his lips, but when she said the words, _'before I knew I was dying'_ he stopped cold. However, she didn't seem to know what she said. She began to look around the room. He placed a finger under her chin to pull her face back to his. He was about to ask her what she meant when she asked loudly, over the music, "What makes you happy, Marcus?"

He removed his hand from her chin and sat back. Perhaps he hadn't heard her correctly before. Still confused, he would worry about her slip of the tongue later. He said, "My friends make me happy. I like my job. My girlfriend makes me happy, even if we are going through a rough patch."

She made a funny noise with her mouth and began to drink her fourth drink again. "Be less specific."

He laughed. Tilting his head to one side he asked, "Less specific? Usually people say 'be more specific'. All right then, little Gryffindor. Less specific…lets see. To me, happiness means having your hopes and dreams fulfilled. Taking care of your loved ones, not disappointing them, having them be proud of you."

She placed her hand upon his arm.

"The Beatles said that happiness was a warm gun, but I don't know what the hell that means," she said seriously and then she started to laugh. He laughed right along with her, and pushed one of his full drinks toward her. Hermione Granger was a fun drunk.

She started her fifth drink and said, "Ah, but you see Marcus, what you were just describing to me isn't happiness, not at all. You just described the very things that I always equated with happiness, but I wasn't happy, was I?"

He raised one eyebrow and said, "Come again?" He looked at her hand on his arm and he quickly covered it with one of his.

"No, I wasn't and I should know, for I was the one living my life," she defended, removing her hand out from under his, "because I was living a lie. What you were describing was the way I lived my life for the last almost 27 years. I always thought of others first, I took care of them, I tried to have my hopes and dreams come true, certainly, but I put their hopes and dreams first, took care of them, made sure they were happy and well cared for, and what did it get me, Marcus?" She held up her hands as if to ask, 'what?'

"What, Hermione. What did it get you?" he asked seriously.

She was quiet for a moment. "It didn't get me anything." She looked up at him and added, "But that's beside the point. What you're describing as happiness sounds like duty, and duty has nothing to do with happiness. You're doing things to take care of people and to make other people happy, but Marcus, you can't make it your life's work to make other people happy, because who will see to your happiness, Marcus? Who?"

She slumped back in her seat and frowned.

He pushed her mostly empty 'fifth' drink away from her. "It sounds like you're only responsible for your own happiness, is that what you're trying to tell me, little one?"

She looked up at him frowning and nodded.

With a bit of condescension he said, "Well, that sounds like a solid plan." He motioned toward Blaise, who came trotting over. "Could we get some black coffee over here?"

"I don't think our club has coffee," Blaise said seriously. "How are you going to get our girl pissed on coffee?" He laughed and then looked at Hermione, who by this time had her head on the table, on top of her arm. He stroked the top of her head. "Is she pissed already?"

"Five drinks in twenty minutes will do that to the best of us," Marcus said with a worried expression. "And I thought she'd be a fun drunk, but she's turning all maudlin on me."

Hermione lifted her head at that. "I'm not maudlin!"

"Yeah, she's not maudlin," Blaise smiled. "Take that back, Flint."

He lifted her, moved to sit in her seat, and placed her on his lap, then ordered one of his waiters to find some water and coffee. She turned to Blaise as she sat upon his lap. "Are you maudlin?" she asked him.

"I don't think so, sweetheart," he said.

"Can you spell maudlin, at least?" she asked.

"Yes," he said smiling. He looked at Marcus and laughed again. Marcus was now smiling in return. Blaise asked, "Can you spell it, Marcus?"

"M-a-u-d-l-i-n." Marcus repeated the word after he spelled it. "Maudlin."

"He's rather smart for an athletic sort, isn't he?" Hermione asked Blaise from atop his lap. "And don't tell him, but I think he has such a nice smile. He smiles all the time, though in school his teeth were abysmal."

Blaise laughed hard and outright at that one, almost toppling Hermione from his lap. Marcus fought his own grin, but questioned, "My teeth were abysmal?"

"I'm a daughter of two dentists, so I notice these things, and I had my own dental challenges in school, didn't I? I had them fixed, though, see?" She leaned over the table and smiled at Marcus. She touched her front teeth. "They used to be large and I had an overbite, but braces and magic fixed it right up. Did you use magic to fix yours?"

"You mean my abysmal teeth?" Marcus asked with a grin.

Blaise lifted Hermione, placed her back on her seat, and said, "Here's the coffee. Drink some, love." He laughed as he walked away from the table.

Hermione took a small drink of black coffee, said, "Ouch, that's hot." Looking up at him, she said, "I can spell abysmal, can you?"

"Probably not, and to answer your question, yes, I had my teeth fixed by magic after school."

Whispering rather loudly, she said, "I rather thought you did, but shhhhh, I won't tell a soul." She nodded and smiled. "Really, your teeth are lovely. Everything about you is lovely. Your girlfriend is very lucky to have a fellow like you with such a lovely smile. Yes, your smile is simply lovely. Lovely, lovely, lovely. But your teeth are the best."

He found her ramblings amusing so he smiled again, raised his eyebrows and said, "Thank you, as are yours. Although, I do remember when you were a child that your teeth were larger than your mouth, which was a wonder because your mouth was quite large."

"Was that a cut? Are you being mean to me? I can't tell. I think I'm pissed."

"You…no…you're not pissed," he joked.

"Really? I thought I was. Good to know I'm not," she said, taking another drink of coffee. Then she reached around him for his drink, but he slapped her hand. "Ouch, you mean man! I just wanted to get pissed, if you say I'm not yet. Is that so wrong? I thought you were supposed to help me! Instead, you're sitting there with your magical smile, all good looking, and you're hitting me! That's so rude."

She pouted and took another small sip of coffee.

"You're a lark, little cub," he laughed.

"That's what Blaise calls me, too. I like it. I'll call you 'big snake'. He laughed at that and replied, "You do that."

"May I ask you a very important question, Marcus Flint?" she asked with a sigh, moving her coffee toward the middle of the table.

He leaned forward and said, "You may, Hermione Granger, you may."

"Why does alcohol make a person have to piddle so badly?"

He barked out a laugh so long and loud that she was shocked. "What did I say that was so funny? Never mind. Where's the toilet?" She stood up and weaved back and forth, so he stood as well. With his hands on her shoulders, less she sway again, he said, "It's over there in the corner. Can you make it on your own?"

She turned and looked at him, shocked. "I'll have you know I've been going to the bathroom on my own since I was fourteen months old!"

He couldn't help but laugh again, though he tried to hide it. "I meant, can you walk over to the loo by yourself, little girl?"

She laughed. "Oh, so sorry. How funny. I thought you meant to help me in the toilet. Yes, I can walk over there by myself. Where is it again?"

He turned her and aimed her toward the correct way.

"Is the room leaning to one side?" she asked seriously.

He answered, "Not tonight."

"Good. Then it's just me. I can work with that." She swayed, weaved and bobbed through the throng of people until she reached the doorway to the toilets.

Marcus sat back down, looked at her five empty glasses, and frowned for once. Tonight was going to be a long and interesting night. He motioned to Blaise to come back over to his table. When the other man sat down Marcus asked him, "Do you know anything about Hermione Granger dying?"

Blaise's mouth opened in shock. He had no response to that question. None at all.

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*****_thanks for reading and reviewing. Sorry about the long time between updates! I've been on vacation! I'll update the next chapter very soon, I promise!_


	13. Chapter 13 I Should have Known Better

**All characters belong to JK Rowling**

**Chapter 13 – I Should Have Known Better**

Blaise stared back at Marcus incredulously and intensely, his hands clenched in his lap. Dropping in to Hermione's empty chair he asked, "What did you just ask me?"

"Do you know anything about Hermione Granger dying?" Marcus repeated.

"Why would you ask me something stupid like that?" the other man asked.

"Because she let something stupid like that slip into our conversation a moment ago," his friend explained.

Blaise stood, grabbed Marcus' tie, and dragged him from the busy, loud main room into a hallway, which only had a few people milling about, which soon emptied when Blaise said, "Sod off everyone this instant! I need to speak to my friend."

"You're about to choke the ever-loving life out of me," Marcus accused, pulling his silk tie from his friend's clutched fist. Blaise scowled and opened a door to Marcus' right, then pushed him inside. It was a broom closet. "Is this your office?" Marcus quipped.

"Stop being a tosser and answer my question," Blaise begged.

"Because if it is, I have to say I like the motif. The broom goes well with the mop," Marcus waxed.

"Flint! Have you taken too many bludgers to the brain? Why did you ask me if I knew anything about our cub dying?"

"Oh Merlin," Marcus said, breathing out slowly. He leaned against a ladder. "We're all getting too attached. You said 'our cub'. We've both been calling her that. What started out as a fun project for the Viper's Club has become something so much more! In less than two weeks, having done only two tasks mind you, we've become attached! No wonder half of the male population in Gryffindor used to see her as their special princess! Don't you see, Zabini? We're all becoming entangled over a woman! It's Astoria all over again, and it's going to end up just like her, and it's going to tear us all apart this time, I know it will!"

Blaise took a big breath. "It's nothing like Astoria. For one thing, Hermione isn't remotely like Astoria was! For another thing, not all of us were that attached to her, if you remember right. Now please, focus for a change and tell me!"

"We were talking about responsibility, and selfishness over selflessness, and then she started talking about happiness and she said something about how she wasn't happy even before she knew she was dying, and before I could question her about it, she forgot she said it and went on to something else," Marcus said in a rush. "Do you suppose it's true? Do you think that's why she's doing this list? Is that why she quit her job, and gave up her other flat?"

"No, it can't be," Blaise debated. "For one thing, if she were sick, wouldn't she look sick? And wouldn't Potter and Weasley be at her side all hours of the day and night?"

"Perhaps…" Marcus agreed, straightening up. "But I know what she said and what I heard."

"I bet anything Adrian knows something," Blaise concluded. "He always knows something. You're the closest to him. Ask him."

"He wouldn't tell me," Marcus explained, "Not if he promised Granger not to, or if it had something to do with their jobs."

"What do you mean?" Blaise asked sincerely. "What do you know?"

"She worked in the Department of Mysteries with Adrian. You knew that, didn't you?" Marcus revealed.

Blaise huffed. "No, I didn't. Apparently I'm not the only one keeping secrets around here. How long have you known that?"

"Always."

"Wonderful," Blaise said dryly. "Do you know what your problem is, Flint?" Blaise pointed his finger at him. "You don't trust people enough to tell them your secrets." As soon as that sentence left Blaise's mouth he realized what a hypocrite it made him, but he didn't care. What if he didn't tell his best friends that he was bi-sexual? He wouldn't be that surprised if they knew all along!

"This coming from the man who keeps secrets from some of his friends and not from others," Marcus bit back.

At first Blaise looked shocked, wondering if perhaps Marcus DID know, then he realized to what he referred and he raised his hands in the air and said, "Listen, I can't go on apologizing about that forever, can I? I'm sorry, 'right? Malfoy has been my oldest and dearest forever, and I couldn't give him away. Anyway, it didn't mean anything and he's sorry and so is she!"

"Sorry doesn't mean anything! He should have known better! She was my girlfriend!" Marcus barked. "Just as Astoria was Theo's, not that it mattered to Malfoy!"

"Malfoy has no designs on Daphne and he certained had no designs on Astoria and you know it! They were betrothed from infanthood, but he had no feelings for her, and none of us knew she secretly had feelings for him until much later. You can't blame him for that." Blaise placed a hand on Marcus' arm. "Theo doesn't blame Malfoy, so you shouldn't."

"No, Malfoy's lucky, as all Malfoys are. They're never blamed for anything. Theo took all the blame, and look at him today…a walking shell of a man," Marcus regaled. "None of this matters. We need to find out about Hermione, but I say we don't tell Theo or Malfoy."

"Because you don't trust Malfoy!" Blaise stated.

"No," Marcus interjected. "I don't want to tell them, because we don't know if there's any truth to it yet, and besides, I think Theo might like our little cub a bit more than he's let on, and I don't want to see him crushed again."

Blaise sighed. "I know, I know. I see it too, and I would die for him before I saw him hurt again. Agreed. We don't say a word until we know more. I know a crafty little investigator who can find some things out for us. We went to school with him. Michael Corner, former Ravenclaw. He was in mine and Malfoy's class. Let me see what he can turn up. He was the one I hired for you when you wanted the dirt on…" and Blaise stopped.

"Yes, on Draco and Daphne, I know, I know," Marcus sneered, adding sarcastically, "And I thank you ever so much for that."

"Sorry mate," Blaise supplied. "You know, it really was just that once, and only after the whole Astoria thing. They both were seeking comfort, that's all. How long are you going to make them suffer?"

"How am I making them suffer?" Marcus opened the door to the broom closet. "I'm back with Daphne, aren't I? I'm civil to Draco, aren't I? We're mates again. Don't push things, Blaise. Just find out about Hermione. I need to go back out there. She's bound to be out of the loo by now, that is, if the floor didn't slant too much the opposite way and make her slide all the way home."

"What?" Blaise asked, but Marcus was already gone. Blaise just shook his head and started to his office. He had several Owls to send out…one to Michael Corner, one to Adrian, and whether Marcus liked it or not, he needed to send one to Draco. However, he wasn't going to tell Theo a single thing…not yet.

Hermione walked back to the table she shared with Marcus Flint only to find it empty. She finished the rest of the drinks there, (minus the coffee) then motioned for one more from the waiter. While she waited, she looked around the club.

Then she groaned.

She saw a familiar looking man walk her way. Wincing, she cursed Marcus Flint for leaving her alone. Not feeling pissed enough to face the man coming toward her, she finished her sixth drink, slammed the glass on the table and waited for him to come closer.

It was too late to try to leave. It was too late to wish that he hadn't seen her. It was too late to run back to the loo, dash under the table, or make a batch of poly-juice potion and turn herself in to someone else. It wasn't too late to hex him - but that would be her back-up plan.

Because he was standing right before her. Even pissed, and with her eyesight slightly fuzzy, and with 'two of him' standing there, she would know this man anywhere.

"Granger, what would bring a Mudblood like you into a pureblood club like this?" Greg Goyle asked, sitting down in Marcus' chair.

She rolled her upper lip up in a sneer, sighed, and said, "Does something smell rank in here…oh no, it's just _'Ode d'Goyle'_. Where's my manners, please do sit down…oh, where's your manners, you already did."

"Seriously, Granger, what are you doing here? Who invited you? I know you think you and your type own the world, but thankfully, there are still a few places that you're not allowed." He smiled and sat back, crossing his right leg over his left one.

"Ugh, I think I'm going to be sick," she waned. "I either drank too much, or it might be the sight of your face. One can never be sure about these things." In her mind, she had so many more things to say to him, but she couldn't form complete sentences with big words in her inebriated state. So instead, she winced and said, "Scoot off and try to find your circus troop. I'm sure they didn't get too far without you. They usually don't leave their prized gorilla behind."

He laughed. "You're drunk, Granger. I never thought I'd live to see the day perfect little Hermione Granger would sink so low as to drink like the rest of us, and get pissed like the rest of us. Next you're be telling me that you make love like the rest of us, on your back with your mouth shut and your eyes open."

"You're a buffoon. Go away before I hex you," she promised. She grabbed the waiter's arm and asked for a strong pepper-up potion. She didn't want to feel 'less than perfect' around someone like Greg Goyle.

"Seriously, Granger, why are you here? Last I heard, you were off in South America or something," he said.

"And now I'm back," she bit back. She didn't like having this man, of all men, reminding her of 'Peru' and of what occurred there.

"I hear Potter and the Weasel are there now," he continued. "Couldn't the fragile little girl finish her job? Did she need her boyfriends to finish it for her? They are still your boyfriends, right? Even if they are married, I assume you still supply them with their basic needs…blow jobs in the broom closets…or whatever it is you did for them in school."

She growled at him. The waiter brought the pepper-up potion, reminded her to drink it slowly, however she gulped it down in one drink. Sticking out her tongue at the terrible taste, she said, "You're a disease, who can't even find a paper doll to be a girlfriend. You, my hairy knuckled primate, will live and die alone, and I'm ever so sad for you."

"Yes, well, as least someone will cry at my funeral," he leveled. "Who'll cry at yours, Granger? No husband, no boyfriend, you're sitting here all alone, no date as far as I can see, in an establishment where you're not even welcome or wanted. Do us all a favour won't you? Why don't you just vanish from the face of the earth? If you died tonight, no one would even care."

Hermione froze. Her mouth was open to say something scathing in return, but instead, she dropped her head to the tabletop and she began to cry.

"What the hell, Goyle?" Marcus asked, coming closer, having heard both of their last comments. He lifted the bigger man from the seat by his collar, and pushed him away. "Why don't you pick on someone your own size, or your own intellect, like that building next door, and leave Granger alone?"

"She's crying!" Greg said, startled, pointing at her. "Make her stop! Why is she crying?"

"Because you're a lout who told her that no one would care if she lived or died, maybe?" Marcus said, hitting the other man upside the back of his head with his hand.

"But that's what we do!" Greg defended. "We pick on each other!" He placed his fists on the table, leaned down to Hermione and said, "Stop crying, you little know-it-all cry-baby. Stop it this moment! Drink some more pepper-up potion! I don't know how pissed you were, but if you drank all of these glasses dry, one glass of pepper-up potion wouldn't be enough to sober you up! That must be why you're crying. You're still drunk, that's all, that's it. I've never made you cry before, and I refuse to believe I did it now!" He stood upright and said, "Waiter, more pepper-up potion!"

Marcus leaned over Hermione and asked, "Are you okay, little Gryffindor?"

"Greg Goyle is mean," she said, sniffling.

"And ugly," Marcus supplied.

"HEY!" Greg shouted. "She doesn't need your help. She's very good at leveling insults at me all on her own, thank you very much! We've sat at opposite tables from each other at lunchtime at the Ministry for years. She's come up with plenty of insults over that time on her own! She doesn't need your help."

Wiping her eyes, she said to Marcus, "He's right. I'm usually more than a worthy foe for him. I think I'm still a wee bit pissed, that's all."

"So you don't want me to take him out back and duel with him?" Marcus asked earnestly. "Because I would, for you, I would."

"I could do that myself," she said. "He just said something particularly painful this time, that's all."

Marcus thought he knew what that was. Goyle said that no one would care if she lived or died…but if that were the case that statement couldn't be further from the truth.

Goyle said, "What did I say to make her cry? She's never cried before, and I know I've been much meaner to her in the past, as has she to me! Is it because she's drunk? Some people get weepy when they drink too much. It can't be because I called her Mudblood, although she always did hate that. We established from day one that word was off limits. I forgot." He went to stand next to her. "Sorry about the Mudblood comment, Granger. Go on then, your best shot."

Marcus looked confused, but Hermione stood up, pulled back her small fist and hit the big man as hard as she could on the arm, which in reality wasn't very hard. Marcus realized this, but Goyle still made a good show of it, by putting his free hand on his arm, scrunching up his face, and crying out, "Ouch, Granger! That one really hurt." Then he winked at Marcus, to show that it didn't hurt at all. Turning back toward Hermione he said, "By the way Granger, I might cry if you died. I wouldn't have anyone to fight with if you did." Then he walked away.

"You hit him," Marcus said in awe.

She nodded. "It was Harry's idea. One time at work Goyle called me a Mudblood and I was going to hex him, but Harry said he didn't want to go through all the paperwork of having to arrest his best friend, or the paperwork of having to explain how Goyle 'committed suicide' while in Auror custody, if you get my meaning, so he made Goyle agree that the next time he called me that, I could hit him."

Marcus laughed and pulled her close, bringing her hand up to his face. He examined her small fist, then brought it to his lips and gave it a brief kiss. "So you hit him that time and now this time?"

"Oh no, I end up hitting him every time I see him," Hermione explained. "Greg's head is truly full of sawdust, and he forgets and calls me that every time, so I get to hit him every time."

Marcus threw back his head and laughed. "I rather doubt that. Goyle acts stupider than he is. He probably likes sparing with you, and he probably likes getting hit by you as well." The waiter brought the new glass of pepper-up potion, but Marcus motioned for him to leave it on the table.

"Let's go out on the dance floor, little Gryffindor," he suggested, one hand still covering her fist, his other hand low on her back as he led her out to the dance floor. "I want to dance with you. You can tell me more about all the times you've hit Greg Goyle."

His muscular, strong arms went around her and she placed her head upon his chest. She thought he smelled good. Almost too good. Hermione smiled up at him as a new song began, and he enveloped her tighter in his brawny embrace. "And you can tell me all about the trouble you're having with your girlfriend right now," she suggested.

"I'm not having any trouble with her," he said, stroking her back with one hand, his other hand cupping the back of her head. "She's sitting right over there. You can ask her yourself."

Hermione looked up at his face. "She's here? But I thought you said you were having a rough patch, yet she knows you're here with me, dancing with me, spending time with me, helping me with my list. And she's okay with it?"

"Well, yes, of course she is. You see, she's giving you to me, as a sort of retribution or boon - a payment in kind, if you will," he replied.

Hermione spied up at him and said, "Explain yourself, or you'll find my fist in your nose, ala Greg Goyle."

He laughed once, moving her to the music sensually, and said, "She cheated on me with Draco Malfoy, and so I get to cheat on her with you, but the only thing is, she wants to watch."

Hermione wasn't so drunk any longer that she wasn't slightly appalled by that suggestion. Pushing away from his arms slightly, she asked, "Repeat that! What?"

He felt like such a cad repeating it, especially if what she said about 'dying' was true, but this was his true intention tonight. His payment for helping her with her list was to 'pay back' Daphne for cheating with Draco Malfoy by cheating with Hermione Granger, and by making Daphne watch. However, now that he said it aloud, and now that he saw the look of outrage on Hermione's face, plus the fact that she might be dying, made him feel uneasy about it suddenly.

He was about to tell her that he was merely joking, when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around, Hermione still in his arms, and there behind them was his blonde haired, green-eyed girlfriend of seven years, and she asked, "Did she agree? If she did, I think we should be getting home now, and get started, don't you?"

* * *

_Yeah - I'm a bit nervous about what comes next because I've only ever written one 'threesome' and it was Harry, Draco and Hermione for the story, "Annoyance and Awareness of Her" and it was tasteful...not that what's coming next won't be tasteful, but I'm still nervous. And for those of you who still want something between Blaise later, there will still be a Double Viper chapter later on...ha! Thanks!_


	14. Chapter 14 A Hard Day's Night

**All characters belong to JK Rowling**

**Chapter 14 – A Hard Day's Night**

"Did she agree? If she did, I think we should be getting home now, and get started, don't you?"

That sentence from Daphne Greengrass to her boyfriend Marcus Flint was still swirling around Hermione's head, even though she was sure she was no longer pissed. For one thing, she had drunk two more glasses of pepper-up potion. For another, she had never felt more wide-eyed and coherent in all her life than she did at this moment.

She agreed to go home with Marcus and Daphne and was now sitting upon the sofa in their sitting room, in their rather large and spacious house. A headache was knocking on the right side of her brain, her left side brain still brimming with all the things she needed to say to the couple as they explained their reasoning as to why they wanted this little ménage à trois, when all she really wanted to do was to tell them both… "Oh, DO SHUT UP!"

They both stared at Hermione and then they stopped talking.

Hermione clasped her now pounding head. "Why do people drink?"

"Are we to talk philosophy now, or are we going to get this little threesome started?" Blaise asked from his perch on a chair on the other side of the room.

All three occupants looked at him.

"Why did you tag along again?" Hermione asked.

He laughed. "You are joking, right? This was too good to pass up. First, I don't think they have a chance in hell of convincing you to their little scheme, but if they do, I want to see how they do it. Secondly, I want to see you set them in their place. Go on; start setting them in their place."

Hermione took off one of her shoes and threw it at Blaise. It hit him square in the middle of the chest. He winced when it rebounded off his chest and landed on the floor. Marcus laughed and Daphne snickered. Hermione looked toward the couple who sat next to each other on the loveseat across from her and she said, "You really must explain this to me again."

"And use big words, she likes big words," Blaise added.

"I swear by all that's holy the other shoe is about to leave my foot and if it does, it will hit your head this time," Hermione threatened.

"Fine, see if I help you again," Blaise said, moving from his chair to sit beside her on her couch. "But I want to hear this, too and you can't stop me."

Daphne looked at Marcus and then back to Hermione and began. "I want to give Marcus what he wants, that's all, and if this will make us even, so be it. Whatever I can do to make him happy. He deserves happiness. He does so much for me. For all of us, really, and doesn't ask for much in return."

"What, so he gets me in return?" Hermione asked sarcastically. "Let's go back to the beginning. Why is this even necessary? May I have the truth?"

Daphne looked down at her clasped hands in her lap. Marcus reached over and placed his hands upon hers and then said, "It's nothing."

"If it's nothing, then you have nothing in which to forgive. If it's nothing, she has nothing to make up for. If it's nothing, you should go on with your lives, and not involve other people in it." Hermione stood up and then plopped back down on the sofa. "But you did involve me, so I want to know."

"Yes, well, maybe we all want to know things, kitten," Marcus replied, standing. "Yet you aren't above keeping things from us, so why must we tell you the truth?" He walked out of the room. Daphne walked after him.

Hermione turned to Blaise and asked, "What does that mean?"

"Are you dying?"

Hermione's mouth formed a perfect 'O'. She couldn't utter a single utterance to that question. She felt as if a heavy, lead weight was upon her chest, as tears instantly sprang to her eyes. She bowed her head, her breath caught in her throat.

Blaise was now the one without words, because he had his answer, and it wasn't the one he wanted. "Who else knows?"

"Harry, Ron, the Weasleys. Adrian, of course. The Minister of Magic. Some of the Healers and Secret Keepers, Curse Breakers and the like," she whispered it all, though it came out in one felled breath.

"Healers I understand…but Secret Keepers, Curse Breakers? You aren't just sick then, but what?"

She wiped her hand over her cheeks. She didn't even know tears were falling down them. "Listen, I didn't want anyone to know." She looked up at him. "How did you know?"

"You said something to Marcus when you were pissed," he told her.

She shook her head. Tonight wasn't at all the fun night she thought it was going to be. Sighing loudly, she plopped back on the couch, feeling almost boneless, weightless, and she told Blaise the entire story. When she was done she said, "I don't want the rest of them to know."

"I don't know how I'll keep it from Marcus, but I'll try. I'll think of something," Blaise relayed, his hands held tightly between his legs. He had to hold them tightly. He wanted to hit something. Tear something apart. Destroy something. He felt like a man on edge. "I'm going to tell you a bit about Marcus' story, but only a bit." It was either that, of pick her up and pull her into his arms and comfort her, but he had a feeling she wouldn't warrant that right now.

Swallowing hard, she removed her other shoe from her foot, tucked her feet under her body and turned to face him fully on the couch. He said, "Astoria Greengrass was Daphne's younger sister. She was five years younger, prettier, and more popular. She and Malfoy were betrothed by both sets of parents from nappihood on."

She smiled. "Nappihood? You just made up a word."

"And it's a good one, don't you think?" He moved closer to her, taking her hand into one of his. "Malfoy never liked Astoria. I think it was because they were too much alike. Anyway, he said he would never marry her, no matter what. In the meantime, Daphne and Marcus dated from Hogwarts until now. He's never proposed marriage or anything more serious."

"Doesn't he love her?" she asked.

"Desperately." He moved to lie upon the sofa, his head upon her lap, and his long legs over the side of the arm.

Stroking his short hair, she said, "What's the problem?"

"Marcus is a bit like you, in a way. He thinks he has to be perfect. He thinks he has to solve all the world's woes. He can't offer Daphne marriage until he has all his ducks in order. He doesn't come from the wealth and affluence of Malfoy, but who does, or that of Nott, Pucey or I. His father lost all his money early on, and he feels inadequate."

Hermione looked around the large, beautiful house. "Who paid for this house?"

"Exactly," Blaise responded. "But tell him that. Anyway, he's always working harder, longer, for more, to give everyone more, waiting, waiting, waiting…who knows for what. Taking care of everyone else, but who will ever take care of him? In the meantime, Daphne's lived in the shadow of a baby sister, who was the light of her parents' eyes, though she was vain and unaccomplished and shallow and really a woman without much merit."

Hermione stopped rubbing his hair to grasp it a bit tight. Pulling it she said, "Sounds as if you didn't like her much."

"I hated her." He sat up. "She tore us all apart. Theo fell in love with her, which then made Draco finally give her a second look. Then Marcus became angry at Malfoy, because he's always been particularly protective of Theo, and because it was his girlfriend's little sister. Our whole group is really all so incestual, and the storylines are so involved."

"What happened to her? I seem to recall she died." Hermione placed her head on her pulled up knees after she asked the question, not certain if she wanted the answer, yet waiting anxiously for it all the same.

Blaise placed a hand on the top of Hermione's head. "She did. I won't go into more right now, but she died. It was tragic in the fact that it hurt many people that I loved. Daphne tried to turn to Marcus for comfort, having lost her sister, but he blamed her sister for something terrible that happened to Theo, so he couldn't give Daphne the comfort she needed."

Hermione turned her head on her knees and took a long look at the man beside her, realization dawning finally. "Daphne got comfort elsewhere. Comfort from her grief, in the form of sex from Malfoy."

Blaise nodded.

"How awful."

"You're fit to judge her, are you?" Blaise asked lightly, still stroking her hair.

"I meant for her, for Malfoy, and for Marcus. I'm not judging anyone. I'm not doing that sort of thing any longer." She gave him a sad, woeful smile then buried her head back in her knees.

He pulled her into his embrace. Holding Hermione, Blaise said, "Of course, Marcus forgave them both, mostly because Adrian told him to, and because he didn't want to tear us all apart anymore than we already were. I still can't believe he asked to sleep with you as payment for helping you with your task."

Hermione pushed away from his arms and gave him a rueful glare. "YOU ASKED for the same thing!"

"Well yes, but when I asked, it was for noble reasons, and our coupling was full of beauty and light and love." He raised one eyebrow, a grin upon his face.

She remained motionless for several seconds after his speech, then bent down, looked at the floor and said, "Where's my other shoe? I have to hit you with my other shoe right this second! You're so full of shite!"

He bundled her up in his arms, away from her shoe, and laughed. "It sounded nice."

Marcus stood in the doorway.

"I have two shoes you could use." They both looked up at him. "How dare you judge me, when you already had sex with the cub?"

Hermione held out her hand and said, "Shoe please."

Marcus took off his shoe, walked over and handed it to her with a pleased looked on his face. Blaise cowered on the couch, but he had nothing to fear, for Marcus had no sooner turned back around when he felt his own shoe hit him on the backside, very hard. He turned around to face the culprit and asked, "And what was that for? You were meant to hit him!"

"That was because 'the cub' was sitting right here when you censured him! Don't you dare ever to talk down to me! Now come here."

"No. I think I'm afraid," Marcus joked. "Show me your hands, so I know you don't have any other shoes."

"Come here," she repeated.

He ambled over to the sofa, slowly, kicking off his other shoe, before coming to stand before her. "Remember the conversation we had earlier this evening, before I was totally pissed, about selfishness and selflessness?" she asked.

He nodded, while she actually stood on the sofa so that she was as tall as he was. Standing eye to eye with him, she continued. "Marcus Flint, you're a loving, giving, hopelessly wonderful man, but you've got to forgive."

"I'm so sick of everyone telling me to forgive Daphne and to forgive Draco!" he screamed, his hands up in the air. Blaise stood from the sofa, to watch the pair with interest.

Hermione placed her hands on his shoulders. "You're also a bit dense, because I'm not talking about forgiving Draco or Daphne. I'm talking about forgiving yourself. If I had to guess, I would bet that out of all the Vipers, you're the most like me. Not Adrian, but you. Therefore, you take it all inside, and upon yourself. All the burdens, all the woes, all the worries, all the blame. You blame yourself that Astoria hurt your friends. I don't know the whole stories, but I rather think its tawdry, and Theo was hurt badly, and you can't abide your friends being hurt. See, just like me."

"Also," she continued, pulling him down to sit on the couch, and sitting beside him, "like me, you live to make others happy, but yet you're never completely happy, even though you're always smiling. Inside," she patted his chest, "you're not really happy, although you are on the outside."

"And you think you're not good enough for the rest of them, because you don't have the same material things, but Marcus, you've provided more for Daphne and yourself then the rest of them ever had to provide. You should be proud of that. You did it on your own. It's sort of like me and my magic. People have spent my entire life making me feel like I'm not good enough because my magic isn't inherited, but it's my birthright, and it belongs to me, just as much as it belongs to them, and I'm better at it then them, so they're just jealous."

Blaise said, "The hyperboles and similes are beginning to merge into one at this point, but it could be because it's three in the morning."

"We aren't talking to you," Hermione reminded him. "Where was I?"

Marcus smiled. He wasn't sure at this point either. He only knew he felt better. "Hermione, it doesn't matter. I understand what you're trying to tell me, and it's helped, honestly. May I interject?"

"Of course," she said.

"Are you dying?"

"How is that interjecting? That's going off subject completely," Blaise said from his corner of the room. He wanted to spare her, so he said, "Anyway, I found out that she didn't mean_ that_ when she said it earlier, so why don't you ask her what you really want to ask her."

Marcus turned to his friend. "What do I really want to ask her?"

"If she's going to sleep with you."

Hermione's mouth opened wide again, in shock, at Blaise's statement. Marcus turned his head back to Hermione. She smiled at him, shook her head and said, "Blaise is so annoying. See, now you don't have to do that, though. You don't have to get back at Daphne; because you don't really do that to someone, you love. And now that you know it's all about forgiving yourself and not her –"

She didn't say another word because Marcus swept his mouth down, caught hers in his and kissed her. His mouth was heavy and warm on hers. It tasted like coffee and mint. He must have drunk some while he and Daphne were in the other room. Hermione's mind whirled while he kissed her, then she could only think of his lips, because they were nice lips, and they knew what they were doing, and she was getting a funny, pulsating feeling between her legs, and her breasts felt heavy and wanting, and her arms were thrown around his neck, and her lips were moving under his.

Oh, this was all so confusing.

Apparently Blaise thought so too because he came to stand beside them and said, "I was joking when I said that. I thought you weren't going to do this."

Daphne entered the room, placed a hand on Blaise's arm and said, "Leave them alone, Blaise. Marcus and I talked about it in the other room. It's not about revenge any longer. He finds her attractive. He's drawn to her. He says he feels confused and guilty because he's felt desire for her for a while, but I don't want him to feel guilty. So I told him if he wants her, he can still have her, but now it's for a different reason."

Blaise looked shocked and pointed at the kissing couple on the couch. "And you're okay with this debauchery!"

Daphne laughed. "Coming from you, I think that's an overstatement, but yes, I'm okay with it, because sometimes physical love is the only way to show how you really love someone, and I think that Marcus really loves her, in his own way."

Blaise frown. "I don't think I like this. She's not meant for him."

"Of course not," Daphne agreed. "He's mine. But who is she meant for, Blaise?"

He thought for a moment, though he didn't need to, because he already knew the answer to that, and the answer scared the living daylights out of him. Marcus and Hermione continued to kiss, and it was becoming more heated, and Blaise finally asked, "Are we just going to stand here and watch?"

Daphne raised one eyebrow and said, "I suppose we'll watch while we can, while they let us, until they move into a different room. I can't imagine Marcus would let you participate."

Blaise frowned harder. "Damn."

* * *

_*The Marcus/Hermione love scene is next. What task should she do next?_


	15. Chapter 15 She Loves You

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 15 – She Loves You, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah**

The bedroom Marcus ushered Hermione into was prepared for something, because there were candles all around the dimly lit room, and a soft fire glowed in the stone fireplace. The massive four-poster bed was turned down. Marcus half-carried Hermione into the room, and oddly enough, Daphne and Blaise did follow, though Daphne pulled Blaise to the side and pushed him into a chair in the far corner and then made a motion that he needed to remain quiet once they entered the room.

Hermione didn't even notice the other two. If Marcus did, he didn't let on, because all his attention was on Hermione, which was good, because after they stopped kissing Hermione didn't know what to do or say.

She felt somewhat better after their earlier conversation about honesty, so she felt more of it was in order. Placing her hand on his chest she said, "Just so you know, this is only about sex for me." Then she laughed. "I've always wanted to say that to someone."

"But it that true?" he asked with that off-handed charm of his - that grin upon his face. "Don't you love me, even just a little? I see that I'm beginning to love you."

That statement shocked her. She _knew_ he meant that he loved her as a friend, for she had no illusions (or desires) otherwise, and she was ready to say yes, honestly, it was true, when she thought a moment longer. "Well – no. I suppose I don't believe in empty sex. Sex should still have its purpose and its reasons. I'm glad we aren't doing this for revenge or retribution, but another part of me is still grateful that we're doing it." She buried her head in his chest. "Still, I won't tell you that I love you, even as a friend, or even if it's true. It would make this all a bit **icky** for me. I can't do that right now. I can't love anyone else at this juncture."

Hugging her close he brushed her hair away from her face. "You're a wonder, little Gryffindor. You're love itself." Turning his head to the corner he said, "Isn't she a wonder."

Hermione lifted her head. "Wait. Who are speaking to?" Looking over her shoulder, she asked, "What is she doing in here?"

"I told you Daphne wanted to watch."

"I suppose I thought in theory that was awash now, along with the whole 'sex for revenge' thing. I don't think I feel comfortable with that." Hermione stepped away, shier suddenly. "Kissing in front of her is one thing, and knowing that she's in the other room, aware of it all, is another thing, but…I can't do this. After all, I'm not a…a…wanton."

Blaise barked laughter from another dark corner of the room. Hermione whizzed around fast. "What is he doing in here?"

"Now I didn't say he could watch! I've never had sex with a man watching, and I don't intend to do it now," Marcus demanded with a purposeful smile. He pointed toward the door. "Out, Zabini."

"Wanton, indeed." Blaise continued to laugh while holding his side, but not his breath, so he added, "Besides, Daphne needs me here for moral support."

"Liar," Daphne laughed. "He forced his way in here."

"That's putting it on rather thick," Blaise said, plopping back down in the chair by the fireplace. "Besides, Granger is too much of a wanton to realize this, but there's nothing to hide from me as far as she's concerned. She's already witnessed first hand my nice display of sexual prowess."

"There is enough to hide as far as I'm concerned!" Marcus bellowed. "OUT!"

"Afraid I'll judge you unfairly and you'll come up wanting?" Blaise asked lazily, with no intention of leaving.

"OUT!" Hermione seconded, also pointing toward the door.

"It's not as if I'd give you pointers doing the deed. And you aren't my type, Flint, so no worries there," Blaise bit out.

Marcus' ever-loving grin fell to the floor. "What does he mean by that?"

Hermione acted as if she didn't know, while Daphne answered, "He's bi-sexual, darling."

"Yeah, what she said," said Blaise, before he realized to what he agreed. When he realized, he looked shocked at his own admission, but his shocked expression turned to a smile.

Marcus looked confused.

Hermione looked taken aback.

Daphne looked nonplussed.

"Gee, I didn't know it was going to be so easy to tell everyone," he added happily. "Now the cub knows, Malfoy knows, and Flint knows. Wait one second, how in Merlin's name do you know?" Blaise turned to Daphne, as did Marcus and Hermione.

She had the grace to look chagrined. "Astoria told me, a long time ago."

Blaise wanted to say something very badly, but in deference to the woman's dead sister, he kept his mouth shut. Instead, he said, "Suddenly, I'm not in the mood to remain here any longer. Have a charming evening."

Coming toward Hermione, he leaned forward, kissed her cheek and said, "Have fun. Be a wanton. You need more of it in your life. You aren't meant to fall in love with him, and whether you want it to be or not, sometimes sex is just sex. Not between us, of course, and not with everyone else, but with him, sure."

He patted Marcus' behind and said, "I really did want to see you up close and in action, too. Oh, and she's sensitive behind her right knee and left earlobe."

He swept past Daphne and said, "I'm no longer certain you deserve Marcus."

"Hey, don't pick on her because she told your secret!" Marcus told Blaise's retreating back.

"Did I hurt his feelings?" Daphne asked, truly upset.

"This isn't going to happen tonight, is it?" Hermione asked, sighing. "Which is fine. It's almost morning and I think I'll leave as well."

"NO!" Daphne and Marcus shouted at once. Daphne sat down in the chair over by the fireplace, left warm by Blaise, and said, "I won't say another word, and I'm sorry if you didn't understand, but my watching is the only caveat I have to this. I swear I'm over doing it to make sure he forgives me. And it's not because I'm a lesbian, it's not because I'm a voyeur, although…well, maybe, and it's not because I want to punish him later. It's just what I want."

She sat down, crossed her legs, and said, "Proceed."

Hermione looked back at Marcus and said, "I really can't. I'm sorry."

From behind them, Daphne asked, "Do you want him, Hermione?"

Marcus raised his eyebrows and out popped his smile. "Do you?"

"You people are killing me before my time," she mumbled under her breath, her head falling back on Marcus' chest.

Then Daphne asked her another question, which she thought was sure to work. "Are you afraid?"

Hermione turned toward the other woman and said, "I'm too smart for that to work on me. I'm not afraid of much; or so it would seem." She turned away from them both, placed her wand and jewelry on the bedside stand and whispered, "Except my own immortality." She turned back to Marcus. "Fine, let's do this thing, but I have to get home to my cat, so we have to make it quick."

Marcus threw back his head and laughed. Enveloping her in his arms he said, "You're a sweetheart, little cub. I've said it once, and I'll say it again."

Hermione wasn't really joking, but she smiled back at him, lost in his laughter, his smile, the gleam of his eyes, and suddenly realized that she hadn't felt like crying since she told Blaise about dying in the living room earlier. Forced to examine things, she would have to say that at this very moment she would have to admit she was happy.

"And you're a sweetheart as well, big snake," she responded with a grin.

"You told her my nickname for it?" Daphne asked from the chair. Hermione and Marcus turned to her, surprised, and all three laughed.

Hermione turned her head back to Marcus and he winked at her and she finally felt okay with it all. She didn't know why, but she did. Marcus placed both hands on her face, asked her if she was okay once more with only his eyes, and somehow she knew it, and nodded.

"You're so beautiful, Hermione," he said honestly. Kissing her neck, stroking her hair, he had to pull on her arms to keep her from staring over her shoulder. "It's only you and me here, Hermione. Only you and me."

They came together and kissed again. She shivered, from nerves or excitement, she didn't know which. His lips continued to move over hers, more passionate, deeper, his tongue moving like silk over hers, her hands moving up to wrap around his smooth shoulders, into his glossy dark hair.

They ended up in the large bed, their clothing gone. It was so simple really. He removed her clothing, she removed his. It was almost civilized. And while they were doing these and other things, they were touching, stroking, kissing, caressing, and Hermione could hear Daphne moaning slightly from her chair, but she was afraid to look to see why, and happy that Blaise had left the room.

Marcus Flint's body was firm and muscular, and Hermione couldn't help but compare it to Blaise's body in her mind. Where Blaise was longer, his muscles more sinew, more defined, his body like that of an archangel, Marcus Flint was broader, and more chiseled, a Greek god over the fallen angel.

And where Blaise's mouth was talented indeed (even though Hermione thought the man had long, lovely fingers), it was Marcus' touch that almost brought her over the edge, even though his hands were rougher, his fingers blunter. When he finally moved to cup her bare breasts, his lips moving down her chest along with his hands, she moaned as loudly as Daphne.

Her nipples were raw and sore as he palmed them gently, lovingly, telling her how beautiful they were. He talked and smiled and brushed his cheek against her breasts, blew his breath against her stomach, all things she would never have thought he would do.

His body was so warm and large next to hers, and even as she closed her eyes, she felt as if her blood was about to burst out of her veins, and her heart was about to come right out of her chest.

This wasn't real. She didn't do these types of things. Would she even be able to look at these two people again?

Who cared? Right now Marcus was doing a very amazing thing with his tongue below her navel. All thoughts of Blaise and his previously talented mouth went out of her head. Daphne moved from her place on the chair, was sitting on the side of the bed, and she had begun to stroke Hermione's arms and shoulders. Hermione didn't mind! She thought it was somehow appropriate. Closing her eyes, just felt it all so WANTONLY!

At one point Hermione recalled opening her eyes as Marcus was between her legs. She took that moment to look into the other woman's eyes, and instead of seeing hatred or jealousy the other woman was smiling at Marcus, her hand on his back, rubbing it in a circle.

If only she could feel that sort of unconditional, all consuming, forever committed love for another.

If only she could…could…well…she felt something all right, and it was pretty good indeed. To prove that she wasn't a wilting violet, she participated, too. She had a thing or two to prove to the other woman she thought, but by the end of it all, she knew she had nothing to prove to anyone.

Hermione had an intense orgasm. Although Marcus was buried deep inside Hermione, he was staring into his lovers' eyes as Daphne sat on the side of the bed, and for some reason Hermione found that more sexually arousing than anything else that had transpired all night. He said I love you to Daphne while coming inside Hermione, but then he kissed Hermione afterwards and said, "I love you, too."

When he said it before they made love, it felt as if he meant it as a friend. When he said it after they made love, it felt different. Hermione would hold that feeling deeply in her heart for the remainder of her short live and cherish it highly.

When they were done, Marcus kissed her again and actually told her thank you, then he said thank you to Daphne. THEN, Daphne told HERMIONE thank you. As if that wasn't enough, Daphne finally disrobed completely, moved between Hermione and Marcus, and they started to make love, at which time Hermione knew it was time for her to leave, but quick.

But before she left, and regardless of whether they heard her or not, she said, "I love you, too." Gathering her clothing, she ducked out of the bedroom to head toward the sitting room, hoping the Floo there was open to her flat, feeling a bit too unsteady to Disapparate home.

Once out in the other room, she found Blaise Zabini on the couch, his arms behind his head, waiting for her. "Are you done already? That didn't take as long as I thought, although it might have been longer than I wanted it to be. How was he? Was he any good? How big was he? I've never seen him, but I hear he's quite large. Is he larger than me?"

Hermione inhaled and then smiled.

All Blaise thought again was, '_Damn again.'_ He stood up and held out his hand. "I really only waited to take you home."

She nodded, leaned forward, threw her arms around him and kissed him soundly on the cheek and said, "Thank you, and I love you, too."

He froze, one arm holding her against his chest. What did she mean – 'too'? Without looking at her, he decided to Disapparate with her to her flat. He also decided not to comment on her statement, or he might make a big fool of himself. It wasn't time to declare anything, not yet. Yes, the 'too' probably meant she told Marcus she loved him! She probably told everyone she loved him or her! She was an ever-loving fool.

Instead, he said lightly, "I don't trust you. You're a self-proclaimed wanton. You probably tell everyone you love them."

* * *

*The next chapter contains an all new task!


	16. Chapter 16 I Feel Fine

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 16 – I Feel Fine**

The next afternoon, Hermione sat alone in her flat with her kitten George, (for that was his _name 'du jour'_) on her lap, and she thought about the night prior and the morning after. She really did feel like a wanton, and she felt fine with that. She rather liked that word. In her mind, the word didn't hold a negative connotation. She was a wild, wicked, utterly irresponsible, wonderful wanton.

At least for the time being.

Biting her bottom lip, she held her kitten up to her nose and said, "Well, Georgie Porgie, what do you think of a woman who's had sex with two men, neither of whom she's involved with, one of whom is practically married to a woman, and the other of whom is…get this…bisexual? Oh, and I almost had sex with a woman, although truly she was just there touching bits and pieces and doing tidbits like that, but if I had put 'have a lesbian encounter' on my list, by George, Georgie, I think I would cross it off today!"

When the kitten merely batted at her nose with his paw she placed him back down on the floor, but the little grin that was on her face from the moment Marcus took her into his bedroom last night, until the moment he sent her over the edge into a mind-blowing orgasm, until Blaise brought her home this morning, was still on her face.

She shrugged. "So I'm a wanton. I can live with that. I only have to live with it for about another five months, and ten days."

She picked up her tattered copy of _'To Kill a Mockingbird', _pulled out the list with the four unobtainable items on it, looked at it, as she was apt to do on a daily basis, placed it back safely inside its folds, and then smiled again.

The kitten was bounding from one ray of sunlight to another as they streaked across the floor, but he stopped when Hermione said, "This book wasn't where I left it yesterday, George." He looked up at her. "No, it wasn't." She bopped the kitten on the head with the book, however so lightly, and added, "It was on the floor. Almost under the bed." She threw the book on the trunk in front of her couch.

Standing, she walked toward the kitchen area. "How did it get there?" Pulling open a drawer, she retrieved a knife in which to peel an apple for an early afternoon snack. Knife and apple in hand, she told her kitten, "I have a feeling that Mr. Nott, posing as Adrian Pucey, as I now suspect he was doing, might have been poking his rather attractive nose into my business. But to what end? Funny thing that a man with more secrets than anyone I know would want to learn mine. Good thing I changed my wards last night, or he might have discovered them all, too. Bad enough that Blaise knows it now. I can't have them all knowing."

"If Adrian hadn't left that note of apology under my door last night, I might never have figured out that it was Mr. Nott on my bed with me, and not Adrian. Funny, I really am a wanton if you think about it. I've been in bed in one way or another, with almost all of them. I'm the epitome of a wanton. It's all so interesting, don't you agree?"

"Not really," came an answer from the door.

Hermione whirled around fast, the apple in her hand, the knife in the other, a slice across her palm, blood flowing on the floor.

Theo rushed to her. Acting on pure instinct, he grabbed a tea towel, wrapped it around her bleeding palm in the same moment that he took the knife from her hand to throw it in the sink. Then he guided her hand to the sink, turned on the water, and with her hand cradled in his, he placed her lacerated hand under the flowing water.

"To whom were you conversing when I walked into your flat?" he asked, looking around her small flat, standing sounding behind her, pressing her against the sink.

At the same time she asked, "What did you hear when you just walked in unannounced?"

They looked at each other and both asked, "What?"

He shook his head. "Never mind." He removed her hand from under the water, which meant he had to remove his body away from hers. Watching the blood as it continued to pool in her palm, he gave up on Muggle means of staunching the flow, pulled out his wand, touched the tip to it, and said, "There you go, Miss Granger, good as new. Now, were you holding a conversation with yourself?"

"Handing dandy silent healing spell, Mr. Nott, and no, I was talking to George when you barged in without knocking," she replied. She bent down to pick up the apple, as he bent down to clean up the water and blood.

"Please tell me you have not renamed that poor cat again. I cannot bear it if you have," he winced.

She smiled as her answer. "Now it's your turn," she said. "What did you hear?"

"I heard a previously intelligent, sane woman, talking to a cat," he replied, leaning against the counter. He pulled out another knife and began to peel another apple for her. When he was finished, he handed it to her.

"No, no, no, I meant, did you hear my conversation with said cat," she asked, pulling out a chair to sit down as she ate.

"No." He toed the chair next to hers, pulled it out, and sat down. "Unless you're referring to calling yourself the epitome of a wanton. I heard that part, and I don't think I agree, without proper proof, that is."

She smiled and felt like throwing her apple at him, but she really wanted to eat it. "Did you hear anything else?" For instance, she wanted to know if he heard her talking about him.

"Nothing. Don't tell me I missed the good stuff. I would have thought the wanton stuff would have been the good stuff." He looked at the cat and said, "Dante will tell me later, won't you."

"Now who's delusion?" she asked, pitching her apple core in the rubbish can.

He held his hands over his heart. "You think I'm delusional because I believe whole-heartedly that your kitten will talk to me later?"

"You're delusional if you think my kitten will betray my secrets, because he's too smart to talk to you, and unlike me, he won't be fooled into thinking you're Adrian Pucey." She stood up, threw Adrian's 'apology note' toward him and then laughed as she walked out of the living room toward the bedroom.

Reading the note, he followed her. "This proves only that Adrian Pucey is a ponce who has terrible grammar. He used this word in the wrong context and he spelled that one wrong." He pointed to the two offending words.

She shrugged. "It only proves his penmanship is terrible. He used that word correctly for your information, and that word can be spelled either way. And at least he didn't pretend to be someone else while writing the note."

"I can't help it if you thought I was him. It would have been rude of me to correct you. It would have made you feel badly. I recall you never liked anyone to correct you when you were wrong when we were young."

She glared at him, unbelieving. Then she laughed. "You're a crazy person. Are you here for reason?"

He wanted to tell her that he was there because he wanted to make sure she was all right after her night with Marcus last night, but he couldn't say such a thing. Also, he wanted to find out what went on, although he felt he already knew it, because he knew what Marcus had said he was going to have her 'do' as payment – but that was before the got to know her better. Surely, he didn't – he wouldn't – he hadn't – did he?

"You look constipated," she said to Theo.

"I feel constipated," Theo answered. She called herself a WANTON to her cat, which meant that effing bastard Marcus Flint slept with her, even though he didn't know not to sleep with her. At least he'd like to think that Marcus, out of all of the Vipers, wouldn't have slept with Miss Granger if he knew that Theo was developing feelings for her.

He felt sick. He felt as if he were stuffed full of too much of EVERYTHING! Too much guilt, too much envy, too much want, too much need, too much concern, yet too much ennui. How could he tell all of his friends that he wanted her for his own when he couldn't even admit it to himself? He had no right! Besides, he didn't want her. He didn't. "Life stinks," he ended, plopping down on her bed and throwing his arm over his face.

"Especially if you're emotionally constipated, right?" she said lightly. "Now, tell Auntie Hermione why you're here."

"Are you being condescending to me? I hate condescension." He lifted his arm and frowned at her.

"And I hate eavesdroppers, but those are the crosses we must bear. It makes you condescendingly constipated," she laughed. He glowered at her. "Now come on, that one was slightly funny." He continued to scowl. "Fine, but I woke up with a smile on my face, sunshine, and you can't take that away from me. Was that why you came up, to take away my sunshine?"

"No, he came up to tell you the next task," Draco said from the bedroom door.

Hermione squeaked. She was startled to see him there. "My, you Vipers have a way of slithering into rooms rather unannounced. What's my next…wait, why do you fellows get to decide my next task? And when was it decided?"

"We had an early morning Viper's meeting. It was annoying, really. I never wake up this early," Draco complained as he plopped down on the bed beside Theo. Theo hit Draco with a pillow.

Hermione said, "It's three in the afternoon."

"I know, damn rude of them not to even consider how early it was when they called this early morning emergency meeting."

Hermione gasped. "Who called it?"

"Blaise and Marcus," Theo answered, sitting up in the bed. He leaned over the bed, and looked under it for a moment.

Hermione wondered if he was looking for her book. She said, "It's no longer there, and why did Blaise and Marcus call an emergency meeting of the Vipers?"

Theo got off the bed, squatted down and looked fully under the bed, certain she didn't know why he was looking under there, no matter what she had just said. Her book **was** gone. He looked back at her face and said, "Your book is gone."

"It's on the coffee table. I had a hard time finding it after you hid it under my bed, and let's not get off track," she began.

Draco sat up on the bed. "No, let's do get off track." He looked at Theo. "When were you in her bedroom, and what did you hide under her bed."

"I was in her bedroom just now, you tosser," Theo lied.

"And he hid my favourite brown jumper under the bed," Hermione lied as well.

"You mentioned a book…you know what, who cares. Anyway, to answer your question, Granger, Blaise and Flint called an emergency meeting to discuss your progress. Apparently Blaise thinks we're moving too slowly, oh, and Flint wanted to tell us all about your riotous behaviour as a drunk last night."

Theo smiled. "We heard you hit Greg Goyle. Brilliant."

"Oh, go on you." Hermione waved her hand in front of her face, though she couldn't help but smile. "That's nothing new."

"Yes, she's been doing that for years," Draco supplied. "He calls her a Mudblood each time he sees her, she gets to hit him under penalty of death from Potter, he pretends it hurts, and they do it all over again the next time."

Hermione looked crushed. "He pretends it hurts? It doesn't really hurt him? And he does it on purpose each time."

She sat on the bed and frowned with an exaggerated sigh.

Theo sat down on one side of her, and Draco moved so he was on the other side. "It still makes for a merry story, Granger," Draco relayed. "I tell it to everyone all time. And it's the highlight of Goyle's week, those little squabbles he has with you. He enjoys them. You're bringing happiness to your fellow man."

Theo laughed. "Or in this case, you're bringing happiness to a lower form of primate."

She elbowed Theo in the ribs. "I don't want to bring him happiness! I want to cause him abject pain and suffering, you fool!"

"Then the next task is up your alley," Theo said, causing her to look from Draco to him. "You're going to do number ten. The Wizard's duel. I'm going to give you formal instruction, because as much as a ponce as this is going to make me seem, I had to take lessons as a lad."

Draco laughed. "So did I. Most purebloods did. But here's the good part. You get to pick which of us you want to duel at the end of your lessons."

She smiled, hunched her shoulders, clasped her hands, and said, "Oh, it will be ever so much fun! Which of you do I want to injure and maim the most?"

"She's a wanton now, but apparently she's also into S&M," Theo told Draco behind Hermione's back.

Draco wiggled his eyebrows. "You don't say?"

"Oh, do shut up," she said with a smile, standing. "You realize I could probably beat the whole lot of you in a duel anytime I wanted, lessons or not."

Theo looked down and scratched his eyebrow and Draco answered, "Yes, we discussed that, and we admitted that much to each other, even if it admitting it did emasculate a few of us, but you've never learned the proper technique or stances. Theo's the man for that. He was always our instructor's version of a wet dream. The best student of our lot."

"I love to learn from the best! When do we begin?" she asked with a large grin on her face.

"Now," Theo said back. He pulled out his wand, bowed to her, and said, "Go get your wand."

* * *

_I may not post again until next week or so, because I'm going to be so very busy with work and real life! I hope three chapters this week will make up for that! For anyone who was reading 'The Scarf', I will finish that one, I will! I was waiting to see the last movie, and I finally did._


	17. Chapter 17 Day Tripper

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 17 – Day Tripper**

Theo, Hermione and Draco walked into her living room after Theo's proclamation that her 'dueling' lessons were to begin in earnest. Draco promptly plopped down on her sofa, the kitten sitting beside him. He rubbed the kitten's ears and said, "Five sickles on the bushy haired one, Nero."

Hermione stuck out her chin, a defiant act to Draco's assertion and informed him, "His name's George now, after George Harrison of the Beatles, and my hair's no longer bushy, you lazy sod."

"Yet you knew I was referring to you, Granger," Malfoy laughed. "And who in the hell are the Beatles?"

"Seriously, purebloods can be such bores," Hermione said under her breath.

Draco smirked and said, "And bushy-haired Muggle-borns can be such know-it-alls, oh wait, no, that's just you, Granger."

"Do you have to be here?" she sighed, plaintively.

"I'm here to make sure you two keep things fair, and don't kill each other," Draco said with a lopsided grin.

"How are you going to do that, by making me want to kill you instead?" she asked.

Theo snapped his fingers, causing Hermione, Draco and George to look his way and he said, "Eyes toward me, please. Ignore the git on the sofa."

Draco laughed. "Granger just got in trouble with the teacher! Dock points from her, Theo! That'll teach her." He held up the kitten and said, "Here, Nero will do it. He's docking five points from the bushy-haired one."

Hermione exhaled slowly and said, "So help me, Draco Malfoy, I'm about to show you what I know about wizard dueling in ten seconds if you don't shut up and behave."

"Never mind all of that, please. Pay attention and tell me what you know of dueling," Theo asked Hermione, condescendingly tacking on the phrase, "Wizard dueling, that is."

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, she did sigh, ever so slightly, as she faced the handsome man.

Before she could say a single word, Draco moaned from the sofa and said, "Now you've done it, Nott! Never ask Granger to tell you something! Have you learned nothing from going to school with her for all those years! She loves to bore people with facts and figures and frivolous, arbitrary information!"

"You may leave, Draco," Theo said pleasantly. "We don't need an audience."

Hermione couldn't help it. She giggled. How odd. She never giggled. However, she giggled, because Theo was taking her side and she liked it.

Draco stood up, threw a pillow at Hermione's head, hit it soundly, laughed, and then ran out the door before she could 'show him' what she knew about dueling. Slamming the door behind him, he shouted, "Good luck, Nott! You'll need it!" from the other side.

Theo asked again, "Now, tell me what you know about Wizard dueling, Miss Granger."

Hermione answer, "I would love to. A duel is a confrontation between a witch and a wizard, or two witches and two wizards. The combatants face one another, and then bow to each other. After that, they attempt to disarm, injure, maim, or kill the other with a series of moves and spells that forces the other person into submission. The last person standing, so to speak, is declared the winner."

"In a wizard's duel, opponents are only permitted to use magical means of combat. Which means any spell that's available is permitted, but using physical force is not. No physical contact at all is permitted, although once in school, when we were learning to duel, Millicent Bulstrode held my head in a headlock, the nasty cow."

Theo laughed. "I recall that. Lockhart's dueling club. That was brilliant."

"Well, I'm so happy to have amused you," she said sarcastically. "May I continue?"

He nodded and she did. "There are rules and customs that dictate how a proper duel should be carried out and most wizards are taught these at an early age, just as all of you little pureblood Vipers were taught. Ron and his brothers were taught as well, not with lessons, but more in theory, by hearing stories of duels, or by practicing with each other."

"The rules of dueling are very similar to Muggle fencing. In addition, like Muggle duels of an ancient era, seconds are even named. Also like Muggle duels, Magical duels are outlawed, and if the Ministry hears of duels to the death taking place, or really any duels for that matter, outside of dueling clubs, the people participating can be arrested. The point of a duel is to out maneuver your opponent, not to kill him, anyway."

"Unless he wants to kill you," Theo said seriously.

"I've seen plenty of real duels during the battle of Hogwarts, and even before that, many to the death, so yes, I'm aware of that fact," Hermione said just as serious. She bit her bottom lip and placed her wand on the coffee table to her right. "You know what; I don't want to do this now."

He was quiet for a moment, regarding her sudden pensive state. "Why?" He placed his wand beside hers and walked closer to her. "Are you too tired after your night out with Marcus last night? Is it too early for you, like it is for Malfoy?"

"Believe me, it's not that. It's only that there's nothing fun about dueling," she declared. "The thought of it makes me cringe. It brings up terrible memories. I don't need to learn the proper techniques and manners, and I don't want to use them on any of my new friends. I don't know what I was thinking when I put it on my list." Sitting down on the trunk beside their wands she added, "I think I'm growing soft in my old age."

Theo considered her words seriously, then said, "We could still duel, but make a game of it instead, along the lines of the Muggle game of Truth or Dare. Have you ever fenced? Muggle fencing?"

Raising her head, then one eyebrow, she said, "Well, no, and I'm not sure I see what fencing has to do with the Muggle game of Truth or Dare, or dueling." After another moment she added, "You know how to fence?"

He nodded. "Our instructor thought we should learn. He said it would help us with our form, and everyone knows how to play Truth or Dare. Come on, let's go, I dare you." He held out his hand.

"Where?" she asked, staring at his hand dubiously. However, he didn't answer. Instead, he grabbed her hand, their wands, and he Disapparated them both away.

A few moments later, they were in a paneled room, which had a row of mirrors on one side. While Hermione walked around the strange room, he walked around her and said, "Your outfit will never do, Miss Granger. In fencing, one must wear the proper clothing." Suddenly, with a flick of his wrist, he transfigured her clothing into something closely resembling a Muggle fencing outfit, minus the facemask. He threw her wand to her, and then transfigured his own clothing much the same.

"Now," he said with a smile, "instead of a foil, we'll use our wands, but we won't throw hexes or curses at each other. Instead, we'll parry back and forth, using our wands, and only using a simple stinging hex. Each direct hit equals a point. Five points equals a win. The winner gets to challenge the loser to a question asked, or one dare."

He walked around her, his wand down, his eyes bright, a smile on his face. "You may deflect the stinging hex with simple deflection shield only, or come at your opponent with a stinging hex of your own, but no curses or complicated spells. Do you understand?"

"It doesn't sound too difficult, so I think I can keep up," she replied.

He raised his wand arm and she did the same. He bowed to her. She did as well. They both turned to walk to opposite corners of the long room, but then she felt a sharp stinging jolt to her backside. Turning quickly, she rubbed her buttocks with her hand as she said, "Ouch! What was that?"

"You should never turn your back on your opponent." He looked amused. Hermione couldn't remember ever seeing Theo Nott smile so brightly.

"But I didn't know we had begun!" she complained. "We hadn't even said 'En garde' yet or anything!"

With a cocky smile, he said, "En garde! The duel has begun. One point for me."

Even if it was AT her benefit, she was happy that he was happy. He raised one hand above his head, held out his wand hand, and she did the same. He lunged forward, sent another stinging hex, which she easily blocked. They danced back and forth with a few more hexes, back and forth, back and forth, when he suddenly got her again, this time on the right shoulder.

She dropped her right hand down, wand and all, and rubbed her shoulder with her left hand.

"Two points for me," he announced.

She hissed. "Yes, I can count." She raised her wand arm and they circled each other slowly. Soon, stinging hexes were going off all around them. Theo got her again, immediately, this time on her left arm, which only angered her more, especially when he proclaimed loudly, "Three for me. Are you ever going to get a point?"

She got him right after that. She sent a hex toward him that hit him squarely in the chest. It hit him so hard that he slammed against the wall. Stumbling to stand, he rubbed his chest with his hand, glared at her, and said, "What the hell, Miss Granger? I would swear you sent something more with that than a simple stinging hex."

Hermione gasped, rushed to him, apologizing as she did, when he took that opportunity to sting her again, in the middle of her chest. She went down flat on her back on the floor.

Staring up at the ceiling, blinking like mad at the bright lights above her, his face finally came into view. He had the grace to have a genuine look of concern cross his features first, but it was quickly erased by a smile when he saw that she was okay. He offered her his hand. She started to take it, but then instead decided to gain another point – so she brought her wand up and stung his hand with the nastiest stinging hex she knew.

He cursed, shaking his hand as he dropped his wand, plopping his whole body down on the floor beside her. "That was very Slytherin of you, Miss Granger," he said, wincing still, cradling his stinging hand in his good hand.

She crawled over to him and said, "I thought so, and the score is now four to two, you're still in the lead." She struggled to stand, offered her hand and said, "No hard feelings?"

He smiled. Did the girl never learn? He started to place his hand in hers, when he quickly moved his wand to his right hand, and he stung her right hand with a hex instead. She jumped up and down, in obvious pain, and he fell back on his back, on the floor, and laughed. "Five points to me. I win!"

"That was so snarky of you!" she shouted, holding her sore hand under her arm.

"No, that was Slytherin of me! Didn't we already establish that?" He stood up just as she was sitting down on the floor. He quickly transfigured her fencing garb back into her regular clothing, then his own, and he stood over her, watching with amusement as she continued to hold her hand, in apparent pain.

"Oh, stop being a baby, it didn't hurt that badly," he said, walking closer. "You got my hand at a much closer distance, and you don't see me making a big to do about it. Now, let me think, do I want to make you answer a question for me, or do a dare?" He tapped his finger on his chin, and thought for a moment, then looked back down at her.

She was still holding her hand.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked.

She looked up at him. She looked as if she were in real pain.

"Come on, Miss Granger, I'm not buying this act of yours" he goaded. "The duel is over. You want me to feel sorry for you and come back over so you can sting me again, is that it?"

She shook her head no.

"Get off the dirty floor," he ordered. "You're going to get your clothes all mussed."

She shook her head no again.

"I stung your chest harder than I stung your hand!" he leveled.

"I know," she complained, "but I didn't cut my chest earlier, and I did cut my hand earlier, remember? With a knife, when you came into my flat, unannounced, scaring me as I was cutting an apple? It opened the wound." She suddenly held up her hand, showing him a faint jagged line, oozing red blood.

He felt like such an arse.

Frowning, he sighed loudly, knelt on the floor next to her and said, "Why didn't you say so?"

"I just did," she offered.

Taking her hand into his lap as he sat down intimately close to her, he examined the wound again. With a gentle touch of his finger, he pressed on the area around the wound, and then he took his wand and healed the laceration once more, then said one other spell for pain.

Sitting, he kept her hand in his, on his thigh, his head bent low, so she could only see the crown of his head. She asked, "Where did you learn healing spells?"

Shrugging, he replied, "I wanted to be a Healer."

"Why aren't you?"

"Things happen," was his answer, although Hermione rather thought it was no answer at all. He pressed on her palm with his thumb, and then rubbed the center area slowly, in a circle, his head still bent.

"Theo?" she asked. She wondered if she should take her hand from his, even though she liked the feel of her hand in his. She had so many things she wanted to ask this man, to find out from him, yet there wasn't time. She didn't have time to get to know him. She didn't have time to pursue a relationship. She didn't have time to find out all his secrets. She didn't have time to fall in love.

That last thought made her unbearably, excruciatingly sad.

She pulled her hand from his quickly, forcing him to look up into her face. She stood abruptly and said, "Are you going to ask me a question, or make me do a dare, or what?"

"Right." He stood and brushed off his trousers. "I guess I did win, so I get to ask a question, and you must answer, or you must do a dare."

"Question or dare," she repeated, suddenly weary of it all. Backing up against the wall, she sagged against it and said, "Go at it."

"Fine, Miss Granger." He approached her, took her hand in his again, which caused her to look up at him suddenly, with shock. "Tell me why you made a list of twenty things to do, yet we only know of 16 of them."

"Did you see the rest of my list? The one I had in my book? I though you might have! That's why I changed my wards!" she asked, trying in vain to pull her hand out of his grasp. He held on tightly.

"I admit that I tried, but I didn't see the actual items, just the top of the page," he said truthfully. "What's on the other list, Miss Granger?" he asked with almost a whisper, pulling her closer to him.

She sagged against him this time, instead of the wall. With her head against his chest she said, "Ask me almost anything else, and I'll answer it. Ask me why I made the list…and I'll say because I was tired of waiting to live my life, and that finally I feel like I'm living my life, instead of waiting to live it." She looked up at him, realized he still had her hand in his, realized she liked it, and realized that she didn't want him to let go.

With desperation she hedged, "Ask me why I asked a bunch of men whom I would normally never associate with to help me, and I would tell you that I couldn't think of anyone else to whom I would want to help me. I would tell you that I've had more fun in the last couple of weeks with a bunch of Vipers than I've possibly had in my entire life."

"Ask me why it's so important for me to complete these tasks before my birthday, and I'll just tell you simply that my very life depends upon it, but do not, ever, ask me what is on the other slip of paper! Do not ask me what numbers 17 through 20 are, because those are my own! Those are things that are for my eyes only, and they don't matter anyway, as I'm never going to get to do them!"

She tried to pull out of his arms, embarrassed by her outburst, but he held on tight. She said, "Ask any question but that, Mr. Nott!"

"Fine, Miss Granger," he said in a soft, soothing voice, his hand still clutching hers tightly, his other hand going down her cheek smoothly. "Merlin knows I have my fair share of secrets, so you keep yours." He lifted her hand to his mouth, kissed the back of it, and then he turned it around and kissed the open palm. She felt lightheaded at the feel of his soft breath and warm lips on her skin. "Instead of a question, how about a dare?"

She nodded, mutely, watching him with hooded eyes, as his mouth came closer to hers, his face hovering right above hers. With his mouth suspended above hers he said, "I dare you to kiss me."


	18. Chapter 18 I Want to Hold Your Hand

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 18 – I Want to Hold Your Hand**

Theodore Nott just dared Hermione Granger to kiss him! Was he insane?

He didn't mean to say that sentence. He didn't know what possessed him to say it. Perhaps she had used the Imperio on him when she hit him with that last stinging hex. Perhaps he hit his head when he hit the wall. Perhaps he had finally gone around the bend.

Because he didn't want to kiss her, did he?

No. He did not. **He wanted to do so much more!** He had for a very long time, but had suppressed those feelings because he knew in his heart of hearts that he wasn't good enough for her. He wasn't good enough for anyone. The tragedy with Astoria had proven that.

Still, that didn't diminish the fact that he wanted to take her in his arms, hold her tight, kiss her senseless, press his lips to every square millimeter of her body, and draw a line with his tongue from one freckle to the next. He wanted to grab a fistful of her hair, tilt her head back, and stick his tongue into the deep recesses of her mouth. He wanted to lick around her ripe, red, ruby lips. He wanted to have her weak in the knees while he was between her legs and listen as she anxiously called out his name…

"Theo?"

He shook his head.

"What did you just say to me?" she asked, looking up at him with bright brown eyes, wide with wonder. She looked so beautiful. Gads. Whom was he kidding? He wanted to kiss her and so much more.

Because he loved her.

Theodore Nott realized he was doomed. He was holding Hermione Granger in his arms. One of those arms was wrapped around her waist. His other hand held her previously injured hand close to his face, because he had just kissed it – not once, but twice – once on top of it and then more intimately on the palm. He hadn't meant to kiss her hand, but she had hurt it and somehow he wanted to take away her pain so he kissed her hand and it caused a fire to consume his soul, so much so, that he found he wanted more! Even now, his mouth was poised right above hers so closely that when she said his name seconds ago the breath she expelled felt like a faint whisper of the bliss that was yet to come.

A kiss.

A kiss he had dreamt about every day and every night since he had fallen in love with the former Gryffindor that night at Adrian's birthday party last year.

She had looked like such an angel that day, dressed in a white dress that showed off her tanned legs and a hint of cleavage. Theo began to quote the poem, _"She walks in beauty like the night…" _inside his head when he saw her – she was that beautiful.

And he knew immediately that she was too good, too pure, too innocent, and too wonderful for the likes of him. He had already ruined one pure girl's life so badly that she had TAKEN her life! He wasn't about to become entangled with this woman.

Even if every molecule of his body protested against his decision. Yet that night she seemed to be as drawn to him as he was to her. She approached him and he closed his eyes, held his breath, and thought, '_It's her. She's here.'_ Surprise flashed across his face when she walked to the tree he was sitting under and sat in the empty seat beside him.

He made no real effort to greet her even though she greeted him. She always called him Mr. Nott, which he found endearing, and she asked him if the seat next to him was empty. She kept up a steady flow of conversation and finally she rose to leave and Theo found his hand coming out to grip her hand just as he was gripping her hand now. He seemed to have no control that day either.

He held on to her hand that day, pulled her back into her seat and said, "Stay, Miss Granger." It wasn't a request. It was a command. It was his fervent wish that she stay near him. For only in her presence had he finally found a sense of peace for the first time since Astoria died. The guilt he felt, the pain, the longing, they all seemed to lessen, and he felt a glimmer of happiness for the first time since he could remember. Hermione was the only bright spot in his dark life.

As he continued to hold her hand under that tree, he realized that usually he couldn't stand to touch people, let alone hold their hands. Yet here he was holding the hand of a woman he hardly knew while they sat in chair under a yew tree, even as she talked aimlessly, and he listened, only speaking occasionally.

He never wanted to let her go. He wanted to hold her hand for eternity because he fell in love with her that day.

_AND NOW_ he had the gull, _the unmitigated gull,_ to tell her that he wanted to kiss her. NO! Even worse – he dared her to kiss him! He was barmy! Mad! Foolish!

No. Theodore Nott was jealous. Envious! Covetous! Invidious! He knew that Marcus undoubtedly had sex with her last night. He knew Malfoy wanted to have sex with her. Adrian had already had sex with her once (only he knew that, although she didn't know that he knew). He didn't know if Blaise had already had her, or even if he wanted her or not, but knowing Blaise, (_and who really knew Blaise_) he probably did.

BUT HIS FEELINGS FOR HER WERE DIFFERENT FROM THEIRS! He had real, deep, genuine feelings for this woman and he wouldn't cheapen them by tangling them up with these sodding tasks, or with payment due for helping with the tasks! He didn't want her to view him in the same way that she viewed the others. Likewise, the others may take advantage of her in such a way, by helping her with her list, but he would not…he could not.

IF he kissed her it would be AFTER completion of the list! Even if he wanted to kiss her right now so very, very badly. So badly that his head (well, both his heads) felt as if they were about to burst!

Thinking about what happened to Astoria, and how they all treated her so unfairly with that wager of theirs, and how much it hurt her when she found out the truth, made it easier for Theo to release Hermione. Even as he held her in his arms, he knew Hermione was stronger than Astoria, that she would never take her own life, and that she had a fierce longing to live – and she would undoubtedly live for a very long time – he still didn't want to take the chance that he could hurt another woman with lies and deceit.

It was just a kiss, yet it was more than a kiss.

Subsequently, he dropped her hand. He let his other hand drop from around her waist, though he purposely let it skim her rounded bottom, because after all, he wasn't a saint, and he did desire the hell out of this woman.

Then he said, "I was joking. I was really going to ask you a question instead of offering you a dare, Miss Granger." He took in a fortifying breath and said, "And you must answer truthfully." Turning from her, he schooled his features, evened his breathing, closed his eyes for a moment and tapped down his desire before he turned back around. Now he had to think of a stupid question to ask her!

When he did turn back around, he thought he saw a look of disappointment on her face. And that was when he realized that he was a stupid, fucking fool. He had a chance to kiss her and he blew it. Instead of being true to his Slytherin nature, he tried to be gallant, like some freaking Gryffindor, and for what?

For a 'hard on' that wouldn't go away and for a beautiful woman before him that now had a look of disappointment on her face. If the whole thing wasn't so reminiscent of the Astoria debacle, he might have just went ahead and kissed the girl.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

When Theo was holding Hermione in his arms, her hand in his, his face so close to hers that she could almost feel his whiskers against her cheek, her pulse quickened to a tempo that was faster than an entire percussion section of the London Symphony Orchestra! Raising her hand to his mouth, he kissed the top (in a chivalrous way) then turned it over and in an intimate gesture he kissed the middle of her palm, his mouth open just a fraction. His breath was warm on her hand right before placing a kiss in the middle.

She felt that kiss down to her toes.

Folding her hand in his larger one, Hermione felt lightheaded. Even as his jaw clenched, she noticed that his hazel eyes were bold, but unreadable, so she was shocked when he said, "Instead of a question, how about a dare?"

She nodded, mutely, watching him with hooded eyes, as his mouth came closer to hers, his face hovering right above hers. _'Oh please!'_ she thought. _'Please let the dare be a kiss!'_ She had wanted to kiss him for so long. She wondered for so long what it would feel like and now it would finally happen.

With his mouth suspended above hers, he said the phrase she yearned for him to say. "I dare you to kiss me."

She froze. Even though she wanted him to say those very words, the actuality of the phrase shocked her! Surprise was written all over her face. Right after he said it, he looked shocked, too. It was something she had wanted to do for so very long, (long before she'd been cursed to die), because she loved this man and now it was about to happen.

Hermione Granger first started having feelings for Theodore Nott when she began to work with Adrian Pucey at the Ministry. Adrian would speak of Theo and his other friends, and in the beginning, Hermione couldn't recall Theo very well, even though they had gone to school together.

She knew he was a Slytherin. He was in her year. He was best friends with Draco and Blaise Zabini. She knew he was handsome. Everything before and after that was a haze. Essentially, Theo Nott was an enigma to her.

However, Adrian would speak of him fondly. He told her so very much about him that she felt she knew the man, or at least, she found that she wanted to get to know him.

About the time that Astoria Greengrass died, Theo started coming around the Ministry, even though he didn't work there. He owned his own business. Sometimes he would sit all day long outside their office (for he wasn't allowed inside), just waiting to talk to Adrian. Other times he would pace back and forth in the large atrium, waiting for Marcus Flint to return from officiating a Quidditch match.

Hermione would see him in the lunchroom, sometimes alone, sometimes sitting with one of the other former Slytherins who made up the Viper's Den.

Hermione knew there was some sort of mystery surrounding Astoria's death, and that her family hid the details from the public, as they would, being a very wealthy and old pureblood family. Still, Adrian once mentioned that Theo had been 'involved' with Astoria and that something terrible had happened to him as well, but that he couldn't tell her more because of a pledge he had taken.

She tried to ask Harry for details, knowing that as an Auror he must have investigated, but for once in his life Harry Potter told Hermione Granger 'No'. It infuriated her!

Hermione could only assume now that Adrian had to remain quiet because of the 'Viper's Den' and its unofficial, yet strictly enforced, set of rules. Yet Hermione felt compassion and something else for the quiet and sad friend of Adrian's. It wasn't pity. She couldn't describe it at first, so she didn't even try. She merely let it grow into whatever it wanted to be…and apparently it wanted to be love, because the more she saw of the man, the more she realized that she had fallen in love with him.

Then one time last year Adrian had a picnic for his birthday and he invited her. She wasn't going to go, but at the last moment she did, having just broken up with her boyfriend. Secretly, she accepted because she knew Theo would be there. He was constantly a fixture next to Adrian everywhere they went during the last year, and though he seldom spoke to her, or even acknowledge her beyond calling her 'Miss Granger' she still found that she liked having him near.

Spotting him sitting alone under a tree in a chair that was next to another one, Hermione had to fight the instinct to go to him immediately. Instead, she watched him for a while. Theo was quiet and withdrawn during the party. When Hermione inquired about him to Adrian, all Adrian would say was that Theo was still sad, but that he was getting better.

Hermione hated that he was sad. Being the eternal optimist, she was one-hundred percent certain she could make him happy somehow, someway. She walked over to him and asked if the seat next to him was taken. He looked at the empty seat, then at her, and then said, "Are you mad? Does it look taken, Miss Granger?"

Hermione laughed. It sounded like something she would have said. She sat down and remained there for the rest of the evening. They didn't converse a great deal to each other, but they did speak occasionally. They remained there while everyone else ate. They sat there while everyone else played games.

Once when she started to get up to go to the bathroom, he reached out and seized her hand, pulling her back into her seat. Then he said, "Stay, Miss Granger." Knowing that he felt desperate for her company, she stayed. Plus, he kept hold of her hand for the rest of the night.

When she shivered and complained about the coldness of the impending evening, he placed his jacket around her, finally dropping her hand. His jacket was warm and it smelled wonderful, just like him. She nodded her thanks. He grunted 'you're welcome'. A moment later, when he finished the last of his butterbeer, she held the rest of hers toward him, which he took easily, without overture.

When the cake was served, Theo stood up and went to get a piece. Hermione remained in her seat. He brought back two pieces - one for her and one for him. She smiled, nodded again, and he nodded back.

There were fireworks afterwards, and they remained in their seats while everyone else stood to admire the bright lights in the sky. Theo pointed up in the sky once to get her attention when a red dragon exploded overhead. She smiled. He stared at her after that, instead of the fireworks. She knew his attention was on her instead of the sky, but pretended that she didn't notice.

After the birthday party was over, and most of the partygoers were leaving, Hermione turned to Theo and said, "Well, goodnight, Mr. Nott. I had a fun time tonight." She stood, smoothed down her white dress, and then looked up into his hazel eyes to wait for a response.

"Yes, well, goodnight, Miss Granger. Thank you," he returned, reaching across her shoulders for his jacket. Hermione was about to ask him why he was 'thanking her' when he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. He didn't warn her, there was no prelude; no sigh the kiss was coming. It was just a slight, warm, wet pressure on her cheek and then it was gone.

She fell completely and irrevocably in love with him that night.

And now he dared her to kiss him. Really, really kiss him!

She often wondered what might have happened if she had taken the initiative that evening. What might have happened if she hadn't backed away after the kiss on the cheek? What might have happened if she had stood up on her tiptoes, placed her hand on his shoulder, kissed his cheek in return, and then thrown her arms around his neck, and held on tight?

It didn't matter, because he just dared her to kiss him, and Hermione Granger NEVER backed down from a dare. She had dreamt of this moment for a long time. She had longed for his kiss, and now it was about to happen, because Theo was holding her in his arms and his mouth was coming closer, his face suspended above hers he said, "I dare you to kiss me."

Then, nothing happened. He continued to hold her close when suddenly, inexplicably, nothing happened.

"Theo?" she asked.

He shook his head.

She asked, "What did you just say to me?" It wasn't that she hadn't heard, but she wanted him to repeat it, because she was afraid he might have changed his mind.

He dropped his arms from around her. Then he said, "I was joking. I was really going to ask you a question instead of offering you a dare, Miss Granger." He took in a breath and then said to her, "And you must answer truthfully."

He turned away from her and she wanted to scream! What was wrong with this man! Why wouldn't he kiss her? What was wrong with her? Why didn't he want to kiss her? He turned back around, and she tried very, very hard NOT to look disappointed, even though she was.

Well, fine. If he didn't want to kiss her than she didn't want to kiss him. She only had a little over five months to live anyway. It wasn't as if she had time to be in love. She had a whole list of things to accomplish and nowhere on that list (at least from numbers 1 through 16) was falling in love a part of it. Falling in love would only complicate things. It would take up too much time. It would take too much effort. Regardless, this man had too many secrets, too many skeletons in his closet!

And kissing Theo Nott probably wasn't even that great! She'd kissed many magnificent men lately. She didn't need his kiss added to the list of men she had kissed!

Pointing her finger right in his face, she glared at him and said, "I don't want to play your silly games any longer! Furthermore, I won't answer your stupid question, Mr. Nott. And I admit I'm glad you took back your dare, because I would rather kiss a hedgehog than the likes of you!"

Cocking his head to the side, he studied her out of the corner of his left eye, unbelievingly. "Really?" He grabbed her finger and held her hand tight.

"Certainly."

"I never thought of you as a liar, but I have to say that I don't believe you," he taunted, right before he gathered her back into his arm and pressed his lips to hers.

* * *

_a/n - so this chapter had a major rewrite, hence the reason it was late. Never fear however, he will kiss her. I didn't mean to tease everyone with another cliffhanger, and if that makes everyone angry, then I'm sorry._

_Also, there will be a new task started next chapter. Wonder what it will be?_


	19. Chapter 19 She's Leaving Home bye bye

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 19 – She's Leaving Home, Bye Bye**

Hermione's heart thumped wildly in her chest when Theo took her in his arms again. An indrawn breath was the only noise that was heard before he placed his mouth upon hers without warning. Her hands went up over his muscled shoulders, around his neck, into his thick, long, dark hair. With a sort a frenzied madness, they molded their bodies together, their mouths fused. Her brain went dark, except for a singular, opaque phrase passing through it…_love me, save me, help me, I love you…_which also meant, **"I don't want to die**.**"**

Theo was absorbed in the feeling of HER. Kissing her was better than he imagined (and he had imagined it many times, many ways, completely, utterly, and fully). Her breath was sweet, her mouth moist. She pressed her body closer and closer, while she tugged at his hair. He groaned and practically picked her up, pressing on her back, taking her in his arms, taking all that she had to offer.

Their tongues slid across each other like silk on silk. She felt weightless, he felt heavy, and they both felt as if they were drowning in each other's embrace. Hands began to roam, his mouth left hers to move over her cheek, down her face to her neck. She sighed and said his name.

Then she began to cry. Her tears dragged him out of his passionate haze. Instead of asking her why she was crying, he assumed it was because she was overwhelmed, that he was in the wrong, and that none of it should have happened. He pushed her away, bent at the waist, took several deep breaths and said, "I'm so sorry. That shouldn't have happened. I'm not sure how we let it get that far, but it won't happen again."

Hermione placed a trembling hand upon her lips before she wiped the tears away from her cheeks. She wanted to ask him, 'why?' but she had more dignity than that. Fine. If he regretted it, he could regret it, but she regretted nothing, because regret GAVE her nothing in return. She was finished with regrets for the rest of her short life! Turning from him, she reached down for her wand and said, "I agree. It shouldn't have happened and it won't happen again. Where are we?"

"The basement."

"We didn't even leave home?" she asked incredulously, turning back to face him. He had his own wand in his hand, and was leaning against the wall slightly.

Instead of answering, he repeated, "That can't happen again, Hermione."

"Who said I wanted it to happen again? I didn't want it to happen the first time," she lied; though her voice sounded shrill even to her ears.

Therefore, he stood upright and said, "Liar. We're both liars, but that's fine." He reached a trembling hand out toward her cheek, but she shied away from his touch. Wrenching his hand back, he continued, "It's not that I don't want you, it's just that I don't want what I might feel for you to get tangled up with this bloody list of yours. It isn't right. If there's something between us, I want it to be genuine." He paused and added, "And it will still be there after your birthday, when the list is completed. Then we'll know if our feelings are real, and not marred by the existence of, or the obligation and payment for, that stupid list."

Hermione laughed at that statement. If only he knew, but he didn't, and never would. "Fine," she agreed.

The air in the room was thick with emotion. Something unspoken was passing between them, but it wasn't an understanding, it wasn't a promise, it was a sort of 'farewell'. The longer they stared at each other, the more the silence sliced into her like a knife. She knew he was probably doing the best thing by saying 'no' – the best thing for him, for her, for everyone else.

But that didn't mean she had to like it.

That didn't mean it didn't hurt.

That didn't mean she couldn't still feel the shape of his lips upon hers, taste the sweetness, feel his body, and ache for his love.

Hermione wanted to tell him to take his callous rejection and shove it up his arse. She didn't have time to wait! She wouldn't be here after her bloody birthday! Then she realized that if he had true feelings for her, waiting was for the best. Perhaps it would spare him some untold pain. He seemed as if he was sad enough. He didn't need more sadness.

She nodded, mutely, and without notice Disapparated back to her flat up on the fourth floor of the large townhouse. Then she packed a suitcase, wrote an Owl to Adrian, and arranged an international Portkey to South America. She needed to leave for a while.

* * *

Theo locked himself in his room for several days after that. His only companion was his piano. He was self-taught. He learned on a toy piano when he was only four. By the time he was ten, he an accomplished virtuoso, playing the works of classical composers on a grand piano, giving impromptu concerts for his parents' friends and family.

He rarely played anymore. When he played now it was only because he was upset, or overjoyed. The reason for his playing at the moment was a combination of the two. Draco knocked on his bedroom door several times over the last three days to try to draw him out, but he placed wards up so that no one could come in, however, he didn't place a silencing charm up. He didn't even think about it.

It was this night, three nights after his kiss with Hermione that the Vipers met for their usual meeting in the living room at Theo's townhouse, but instead of talking about their progress with Hermione Granger's list, they all sat around and listened to Theodore Nott play the piano.

Usually, when he was happy he would play Bach or Mendelssohn. When he was upset, he played Mozart or Beethoven. Tonight, he played a litany of songs, but ones in which most of the Vipers were not familiar.

He was a floor above them, but the sounds reverberated through the walls and floors. Usually, the classical music he played flowed seamlessly throughout the house, almost as if it belonged there, fitting in like a piece of furniture in one of the seldom-used rooms, or a piece of artwork on the wall, a crystal vase on the mantel. The music today, though lilting, (especially the piece now, which seemed ominous and sad, even haunting) seemed out of place in the stark, clean, sterile reality that was Theo Nott's usual staid existence.

Draco didn't like the difference. He walked in the house, late as always, slamming the front door hard, and he said, "Is he still at it?"

Marcus, sprawled across one pristine white sofa, answered, "For two days now, right?"

"Three," Blaise revised, from his place on the opposite sofa. Draco sat beside him and shook his head.

Adrian sat on the high hearth of the fireplace and he reached down to stroke the fur of a little brown kitten that had joined their meeting.

"What's Nero doing here?" Draco asked.

"His name's Caligula," Blaise corrected.

Marcus laughed. "I thought we threw that name away and decided to call him Marcus, after me."

Adrian picked the kitten up and sat him beside him on the hearth. "I believe Hermione's gone from calling him Bob to George and now she told me his name was John, after a bloke named John Lennon. She asked me to watch him a couple of days ago, because she had somewhere she had to go."

"Where did the little Gryffindor go?" Marcus asked, no longer exacting a calm pose. He sat upright, waiting for his answer.

"To Peru. She needed to see Potter and Weasley, she said." Adrian moved the kitten from the hearth back to the floor.

"Why would anyone in their right mind go there?" Draco asked.

"About thirty million Peruvian people might object to that question, Malfoy," Adrian said with a slight smirk.

Draco held up one finger and said, "I miss spoke. Forgive me, Peruvian people. Let me start again. Why would anyone in their right mind go see Potter and Weasley?"

Blaise snickered beside him, although it was Adrian who answered. "Her letter said that she was confused and that she needed her best friends."

"And what are we now? Chopped curry?" Draco pouted.

"Chopped curry?" Marcus mouthed to Blaise. Blaise grinned again and shrugged.

The piano playing continued. Draco looked up toward the ceiling and asked, "Seriously, what in the fuck is he playing now? I've never heard this from him before. I don't particularly like classical music, and I hate Muggle popular crap, but this stuff is damn gloomy in my opinion!" Looking at his friends, he continued his questions. "Why is he locked up in his room like this? He hasn't done this since Astoria died. Did something bad happen between him and Granger during the last task? Is that why she left? And did that kitten just scratch Theo's couch?"

Marcus looked down, saw that the kitten did scratch the sofa, picked the little guy up, fixed the tear with his wand, and then placed the kitten in the bathroom off the hallway. Walking back into the living room he said, "What task did they do? We might as well go ahead with our meeting."

"Dueling," Draco responded. "And something must have gone terribly wrong. I thought they were going to have fun. When I left them, they acted as if they were going to have fun, and now she's gone and he's up there playing moody music!" He stood up and huffed, "I wish he'd play something else. What's the name of this song, anyway?"

"He's playing some Beatle song," Blaise answered. "He asked me to go out and buy him a Beatles songbook, so I did. I bought myself some of their music while I was at it, since Granger seems to like it so much. It's not half bad."

"Who are these rotters, the Beatles, that Granger keeps talking about?" Draco asked.

"Seriously, Malfoy," Marcus groaned.

"Oh, like you know," Draco goaded the older man.

"Everyone in England, no, the free world, Muggle and Wizard alike, should at least have heard of the Beatles," Marcus teased.

Draco moved his head back and forth, in a mocking way, and said, "I've never heard of them, and I'm in England, and a Wizard, so there goes your theory." Walking to the bar to make himself a drink, he moaned, "This song is sadder than the other Beatles song he just played, and all we can hear is the melody! I shudder to think what I'd do if I heard the lyrics! I'd probably weep!"

"It's not a Beatles song," Adrian informed him. "And the lyrics to this one is poignant, to say the least."

"About bloody time he stopped that shite," Draco sighed. He held up the bottle toward the room, to ask if anyone wanted a drink. As everyone declined the offer, he shrugged, and poured a drink for one. "Who wrote this? Brahms? Debussy?"

"John Lennon," Adrian answered.

"You said that was a Beatle," Blaise pointed out.

Adrian nodded. "Yep. Nevertheless, he wrote this one after he was a Beatle, I believe. I don't know a lot about it, but I know Granger used to say this one was one of her father's favourites. She used to sing it to herself all the time. She even had the words to it printed out and hung in a frame on her desk."

"What's it called?" Marcus asked.

"I hope it's called '_It's almost over'_ because I can't stand to listen too much more of this sad shite," Draco moaned. He slammed his tumbler down on the glass coffee table and started up the stairs, only to have three men yell out to him, _"COASTER!"_ all at once.

"FOR FUCK'S SAKES!" Draco trotted back into the room, reached over for a marble coaster, placed it under his glass, bellowed, "Are you satisfied, you bunch of coaster lovers?" and then he started back up the stairs. However, he only went up halfway, and then he stopped to listen as Adrian quoted the words to the song as he recalled them.

"How did the words go again?" Marcus asked. "Now that the spoiled brat is gone, you can tell us."

"I'm on the stairs! I can hear you!" Draco had to yell down.

"I don't care. I would have called you that to your face," Marcus said with a laugh.

Adrian laughed as well and then said, "The song's called _'Imagine'_ and I really can't recall very much of it, only that it goes something like, _'Imagine there's no Heaven, it's easy if you try. No hell below you, above you only sky. Imagine all the people, living for today. Imagine there are no countries; it isn't hard to do, nothing to kill or die for, and no religion, too. Imagine all the people, living life in peace. You might say I'm a dreamer. But, I'm not the only one. I hope someday you'll join us, and the world will live as one.'_ I know that's not exactly how it went, and there was a lot more, but that's the gist of it."

From his place on the steps, Draco said softly, only to himself, "Leave it to Granger to worship a song that talks about dreamers and everyone being equal. Stupid little dreamer of dreams, my little Mudblood."

"What are you harping on about up there?" Blaise asked from the living room.

"Never you mind!" Draco shouted back. "He's playing another song now anyway! The song about equality and peace, thank goodness, is over." Draco got up from the stairs and went back to join his mates. "I was just saying that sounded like some la-de-da, happy little, all is right in the world, quote that Granger would like."

"What's up your bum?" Blaise asked.

Draco pointed toward the ceiling and said, "Granger did something to make Theo all moody! I can't live with him like this again! I just can't!"

"And of course, you did nothing to cause his depression the last time," Marcus said sarcastically.

Draco glared at him and said with a level, composed voice, "One of these days, Flint old boy, one of these days."

"How about right now? I'm right here, Malfoy," Flint said just as calmly.

"Will you both stop it?" Blaise shouted.

And that was the thing. Blaise never shouted. There was no reason to shout. Malfoy hadn't shouted at Flint, Flint hadn't shouted back, and while they were antagonizing each other, they certainly weren't fighting. If anything, their bickering was part of their usual relationship.

"Sorry, Flint," Draco said. He never apologized to anyone.

Marcus nodded. "Sure. I apologize as well." Marcus always apologized to everyone.

They both looked at Blaise. Adrian was already looking at him. Blaise couldn't stand everyone staring at him so he stood up and went to the window. Looking outside, he said, "I think the song he's playing now is called, '_She's Leaving Home'_. I listened to it before I got here today, and it reminded me of the little cub. It's another sad one. Believe it or not, from the songs I was listening to earlier, the Beatles had just as many up-tempo songs as ballads."

"I bet Nott doesn't know the meaning of up-tempo," Marcus said, winking at Adrian.

Adrian laughed. "He probably thinks that the Brandenburg Concerto is up-tempo."

"Or Beethoven's Ninth," Marcus contributed with another smile.

"Well now, they do have a good beat, but they're hard to dance to," Draco added, laughing as well. "Let's get on with our meeting. I don't know if the dueling was a success or not, but let's say for argument sake that it wasn't."

Everyone laughed at that. He added, "What shall we work on next?"

Adrian clapped his hands together and said, "It should be Blaise's turn to pick, or perhaps mine, since we haven't picked anything yet. Do you have a preference, Blaise?"

Blaise moved away from the window, a smile still on his face, and sat next to Draco again and said, "It really doesn't matter to me, old chap. Oh, but hey, a show of hands - how many people in this room knew that Hermione Granger was going to die on her twenty-seventh birthday? Just you and me, huh, Adrian?"

* * *

_*I always have so much fun writing the Vipers! And hey, Draco was in a pissy mood in this chapter, wasn't he?_


	20. Chapter 20 Revolution Number 9

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 20 – Revolution Number 9**

_She looks so weary._

That was the first thing Adrian thought when he approached Hermione as she left the office of International Travel and Portkeys. Though she tried to smile, her smile was wane and small. Dropping her valise by his feet, she leaned into his chest, arms at her side and she said, "It's good to be back."

"You were only gone three days," he returned, arms going around her tightly.

"It's still good to be back," she repeated with a somnolent sigh. "It was good to see Harry and Ron, and I tried so hard to convince them to give up this useless cause and come home, but still, it's good to be back."

He understood her ramblings, so he smiled at her. He also understood her friends' determination NOT to give up, because to them, her life wasn't 'a useless cause'. It was anything but. Brushing one hand down her back for support, he picked up her small traveling case with the other hand. Then, he grabbed her hand with the hand that was on her back, and veered her through the warren of hallways and offices of the Ministry.

When they entered the large atrium and went by the Floos she asked, "Where are we going?"

"This way," he nudged with his head. Pointing toward another entrance, they went toward an old iron grate, which would lead them to a faded red phone booth to the visitor's entrance of the Ministry. She didn't ask why and he didn't explain. Once they were outside, he pointed toward a Muggle motorbike.

A true smile finally flashed across her face. "Really?" she asked.

"Really," he replied. "We need to leave the city first, but once we're in the country, I'll give you a lesson. Let's get your case secured and then you hop on the back and I'll drive." He placed a helmet on her head, smoothing down her hair in the process, he sat down on the seat, and then indicated that she should sit behind him.

Holding onto Adrian, her arms around his waist, her bag held onto the back with straps, she closed her eyes as the rush of wind hit her face. It felt good. She felt free. The wind washed away her sorrow, sins, and fears.

She felt as if she was heading toward something wild and unknown. Ever since she'd heard about this curse, and found out her fate, she had felt this way. Yes, she had felt doomed, but she had also felt oddly free. As if she was ready to take life in full measure for the first time in HER life. Moreover, she didn't regret a single thing she had done since she'd found out about her fate, nor would she linger on a single incident or sentiment, past, present or future.

There wasn't time for worries or uncertainties. For she could no longer run away from life. From the moment that she had heard about her fate, she had decided to run toward life and away from death. She ran away from in with a desperate pursuit that very few could understand.

The man in front of her on the motorbike said from the very beginning that he understood. He said he understood that she wanted to be free…free to love, free to live, free to be, and free to die the way she never had the courage to live.

And with all of these musings, her mind began to wander…

* * *

_Both dead, and by their twenty-seventh birthdays. How could they both have died? No one really believed the curse could be true. When they first went to Peru, they didn't believe the curse on the cave, but now they knew without a doubt that it was as they were told, because first Alex, and then Allison, dead. Both Muggle-borns, just like her. The curse was true, which meant she would die next. They had worked so hard, so diligently, for months, to unravel the mysteries and ancient runes behind the curse in that cave, but in the end, it didn't matter. Alex and Allison still died and she was doomed to die next._

_Life was so unfair, but death was harsher still. _

_Adrian was beside himself with grief. He blamed himself. He said that he knew of the risks, but he didn't believe them. If he had, he would never have sent three Muggle-borns under the age of twenty-seven to investigate the cave that supposedly Voldemort had hidden a collection of dark and evil objects._

_It ended up the cave was empty and the only thing evil and dark was the curse on the cave, which was well known to the Wizarding community of South America. After Alex and Allison died, Adrian was under censure from the Ministry. They asked him all sorts of questions…did he know? Was he a supporter (like his grandfather before him) of Voldemort? Did he mean to harm the Muggle-borns? Did he want Hermione Granger dead?_

_Hermione knew Adrian did not intend to harm anyone. She almost felt as sorry for him as she did for herself. He came over to her flat, drunk and despondent after his inquiry at the Ministry, rambling on and on…telling her that besides the possibility of losing his job, he might be facing a hearing before the Wizengamot. He could possibly go to Azkaban. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley had threatened to kill him. And he was sorry because he didn't want Hermione to die…because he cared for her deeply._

_He also told her that he thought he knew of an anti-curse, but that no one would listen to his theories. He said there was an ancient text, he'd seen it once in the restricted section of Hogwarts, and he remembered it had something to do with that cave and that curse, but no one would let him pursue it. He was no longer the head of the department as he was on administrative leave. _

_Hermione wanted to tell him that she was sorry for him, but that she had her own set of troubles…you see, she was going to die in eight months. Still, she pulled him over to her couch, poured hot coffee down his throat, and listened to him._

_He said something about how the anti-curse was dependent on a triad, as three was a powerful magical number. Hermione listened to his theory for a while, watching her Christmas lights flickering on her little tree in the corner of her living room, and she tried to absorb all the things he said, but most of them sounded like nothing but drunken ramblings._

_Things like…her birthday being in the ninth month was significant because three times three was nine…and the fact that she must change things such as her home and job while she had only six months to live. He said the most important thing she must do to break the curse was to have the true love of three. _

_She laughed and said, "Repeat that."_

_Wearily, with his head now in her lap, his eyes closed, he said, "True love, Hermione. True love of three. Not just two men who loves you, but who love each other, too." He opened his eyes and stared up at her._

"_Yes, yes, alright, Adrian," she said, still not understanding. She stroked his hair as he moved slightly so that he was on his side. _

"_Perhaps the Vipers will help," he mumbled, his eyes closing. "You're bound to find two of them who will fall in love with you, and who love each other. You have to try, Hermione."_

"_Hmm," she hummed, still stroking his head. She had no clue as to what he was trying to say. Who were 'the Vipers'?_

_He reached up, grabbed her wrist, stilled her hand and opened his eyes. "You have to try. Two men who love you and who love each other. Do you understand? To break the curse. I know it'll work. You're the third one cursed. It wouldn't have worked on the other three, but it will on you! I saw it on the runes in the ancient tomes. Go to Hogwarts, and you'll see it, too." Closing his eyes again, he silently went to sleep._

_She mulled over what he said and slowly began to understand what he was trying to say to her._

_The next morning she went to Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. With trepidation, she asked her best friends the hardest thing she ever had to ask – she asked Harry Potter if he would make love to her. Explaining Adrian's theory, and the fact that she had actually once seen the same ancient text with the same runes, she said that it might be the only way to save her life…after all…she had already had sex with Ron before, and Ron and Harry loved each other._

_Harry complied, to the chagrin of them both, but things didn't work the way they assumed it would and really, she should have known better. The next day, afterwards, Bill Weasley said a spell over Hermione to see if the curse had been lifted. It hadn't. She was filled with mortification and remorse. She couldn't believe she had misinterpreted the meaning of the runes so terribly. She thought Harry would hate her forever, but at least her 'forever' was only eight months._

_However, being Harry Potter, he didn't hate her, and he never would. He understood and would have done anything to save her life and still would._

_The next day at the Ministry, when Hermione informed Adrian that his theory was incorrect, he was livid. He rebuked her and told her that she didn't understand. She agreed with him and they argued horribly. Their arguing increased to the point where wands were drawn. It was so bad that Aurors were called…including Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. It was then agreed that Hermione would leave work and they would all put their efforts into finding an anti-curse._

_Adrian, however, had other plans. He went about them without her knowledge. He had begun to talk about her, ever so discreetly, just a mention of her here and there, at Viper meetings. He mentioned to Theo that the attic space might make a nice flat for her to live. Strangely enough, Theo never once asked 'why' Granger needed to live in the attic above his townhouse. Instead, he went about fixing it up for her, merely because Adrian said it was to be so._

_The night before she was to move to her new flat, Adrian came to her old one. She had just left St. Mungo's and was packing the last of her things. Knocking on the open door, he stood in the doorway and said, "Are you about ready to go to your new place?"_

_Turning to look at her old apartment, she said, "I think I'll spend tonight here. It's getting so late and I'm so tired. I'll go there in the morning." She sat on the side of her turned down bed. He had just noticed that she was in her nightgown and slippers. Kicking her slippers off her feet, she tucked her legs under her covers._

_He gave her a curt nod. Things had been so strained between them, ever since she told him that she had made love to Harry Potter (of all people). Was she truly that obtuse? Did she truly think that was what he meant when he said that was the anti-curse? _

_Or was the strain because he had told her that he had deep feelings for her?_

"_Well," he said with a long, drawn out sign, "then I'll go and come back tomorrow, to help you with the rest of your things."_

"_You don't have to go," she said, holding out her hand. "You can stay."_

_With a derisive laugh he asked, "Stay? To what purpose?"_

"_Just stay. Don't you want to stay? Adrian, I only have six months to live. I don't know what I'm supposed to do or say anymore. Stay if you want to stay. Go if you want to go. The decision's up to you."_

_He walked slowly over to the bed and sat down beside her. "I guess I could stay, for a little while."_

_Silence passed between them as she leaned toward him, propping herself up so she could kiss his cheek, her weight on one arm. His hands went to her back, resting there lightly, as she went back down to the bed. He fell back easily, his arm still around her back, and he brought her with him, holding her tight on top of his body. She slipped one leg over his body, to rest between his legs. Her hip was on top of his erection. _

"_I'm here for you, Hermione. I'm going to make sure everything turns out okay. I'm going to atone for everything I did wrong, and I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable when I said I had feelings for you. It's not as if I expect you to have feelings in return," he said, his hand sliding up and down her back._

_"I don't know what to say to that," she said in a whisper. Placing her head on his chest, above his beating heart she added, "I don't want to die, Adrian."_

_"I don't want you to die either," he said. "But I have to tell you, making love to me won't keep you from dying, just as making love to Harry Potter didn't keep you from dying, but that doesn't mean there isn't another way."_

_Looking up in to his face, she put her thumb on his bottom lip, and rubbed it softly. "I'm not making love to you to save my life. Maybe I'm making love to you to save yours."_

_A flash of something went across his face. It could have been disappointment. It could have been amusement. On the other hand, it could have been understanding. Whatever it was, she amended, "I'm making love to you because I really want to, and I'm tired of not doing the things I want to do. I don't have much time left, so why shouldn't I do the things I want to do?" Leaning closer, she leaned over him again and kissed him, this time full on the mouth. He was breathing harder. She began to kiss his recklessly, moving so she was completely on top of his body._

_He felt as if he were dreaming, or in shock, because this couldn't be happening. The night he went to her house drunk he thought this might happen, but he had no dreams that it would happen tonight, yet here they were, on her bed, Hermione on top of him, and they were kissing frenetically, and it was wonderful!_

_He hadn't really participated yet, because he was so enjoying her advances. He didn't know how far she was going to take this, but he hoped it would lead to making love. His right hand went down to cup her bum, and her knickers were silk, her nightgown was up around her waist, and he thought again that he was dreaming, this couldn't be real. _

_He made a noise as her thigh brushed against his erection again. She moved so she was between his body. No longer kissing him, she began to undress him, starting with his shirt, unbuttoning the long line of buttons. She moved it away from his chest, she started to kiss his chest and nipples. Her hands played with his soft, smooth, chest, and her mouth kissed its way down his stomach, then back up. She kissed his neck, sucking hard on one side._

_Then she moved so that she unbuttoned his trousers, her hand moving the zipper down, forging a searing path down his erection on the outside of his clothing. He had to bite his bottom lip to keep from crying out like a young schoolboy. _

_Devoid of clothing, he could no longer be an unspoken accomplice in this folly. He rolled them over so that he was on top. His hand traveled up her knee, to the soft skin of her thigh, to her hip. He moved higher, and let his hand rest on her flat stomach. He kissed her neck and shoulders, and in a deft, swift movement, he pulled her knickers off her legs. He reached up further, to touch the bottom of her breast. He pushed her nightgown up, and she assisted, pulled it over her head, and he threw it on the floor._

_He took a moment to look at her, bathed in the soft glowing light of the lamp on her bedside table. He thought she was magnificent. Words could not portray the way he felt gazing at Hermione Granger. His hand went gently to her left breast, letting it rest there before he started to move his thumb, back and forth, over its pink point. He wanted to taste her, but not until she was painstakingly aroused. He took his fingertips, started at her toes, and ran his hand lightly up her leg, to her knee, to her thigh. He leaned back over her, and kissed her mouth, hard. His hand went to her breast, playing, tugging, and pulling. His mouth went to her other mound, tasting its delicious, erect tip, and his hand began to travel down further._

_He kissed her so hard, he was sure he might have hurt her. He palmed one of her breast, in awe of how it fit his hand flawlessly. He wondered if the rest of them would fit together as completely. He continued kissing her neck, and she had her hand in his hair, then on his neck, then his shoulder._

_She placed her hands back on his neck, moving them across the muscles of his chest, across his shoulders, down his biceps. Her hard nipples pressed against his chest, and he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist. One hand went down, grabbed a cheek of her bum, and squeezed firmly._

_He put one knee between her legs and pressed his heavy weight down upon her. He stroked the outside of her breast with his knuckles, and then rounding it with his fingertips. He finally put his mouth on one breast. Kissing one, and then the other, her nipples became hard points, which he swiftly placed in his mouth._

_He licked her nipples, back and forth, raising his head to look at them, hard, distended, and dark pink. He finally lay beside her, and continued kissing her chest, neck, and breasts. His hand traveled down her body, her skin glistening with sweat and his kisses, tingling and glowing in the dim lighting. He felt as if he was on fire and only she could extinguish his flame._

_He lay across her left leg, and bent her right leg at the knee. He kissed the inside of her thigh, to her knee. He let go of her leg, and took a deep breath, to try to keep from moving too fast. He rested his head on her lower abdomen, holding her waist. Placing his body on the lower half of the bed, between her legs, he knew he had to taste her. He moved his mouth from one hip, back over to the other, placing his hand between her open legs. His thumb applied pressure, and she squirmed as he finally placed his mouth on her._

_With her hands in his hair, she pushed her legs open wider and gasped. He stopped for only a moment to look at her face. She was so beautiful. Without another word, he continued._

_Before she could climax, he pushed her to her back, crawled on top of her and entered her slowly, a little bit at a time. He cringed and scowled, as she whimpered faintly. He pushed the rest of the way in, swiftly, and found an ideal cadence, moving his body up and down, his body hovering over hers, hers moving in time underneath._

_Her hands went from his shoulders, to his neck, pulling his face down for another kiss, which he happily obliged. Right before he came, he placed his face between her shoulder and neck to stifle his scream. She bit his shoulder, hard, to keep from screaming. Then, they came, him first, she a mere heartbeat afterwards._

_He rolled her over to him, as she was still shuddering. He reached down to pull the blanket over them both. Then he took her in his arms, stroked her back with the arm underneath her, kissed the top of her head, and said, "That won't happen again, will it?"_

_Just like that, she started to cry, because she knew what he was asking, and she knew it to be true. Whether it was true because she wouldn't have the time, or because he knew that she didn't love him, it didn't matter, because he was right, it wouldn't happen again, and that made her very, very sad. He held her firmly, because he understood. And he would make everything alright, because he had to. He had to._

* * *

Bringing her back to the present, he called out her name as he stopped the motorbike by the side of the roadway. They were out of the city. Straddling the bike, he slid off the seat and then helped her off before he kicked the stand into place to keep the bike upright.

Holding her hand he said, "Blaise told all the others, save for Theo, that you were dying."

She stared at him in shock and disbelief.


	21. Chapter 21 Baby You Can Drive my Car

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 21 – Baby you Can Drive my Car**

"Hermione!"

Adrian called out her name, running pass a shattered wooden fence, his boots caked with overturned mud and grass caused by the ruts from the wheels of the wrecked motorbike, as he ran to the girl who lay lifeless by a large tree on the ground only a few meters away.

When she first veered off the road toward the open field, crashing into the fence, he literally held his breath. Time seemed to stand still, his heart stopped beating when he watched the motorbike slip and slide in the mud, then through a fence, finally ending up on its side. The occupant was thrown off before it came to a complete stop. He ran to Hermione, in a heap on the ground, the wreckage of his ruined Muggle motorbike scattered like pebbles showing him the path to where she lay.

Sliding to his knees beside her, he shouted, "Hermione, Hermione! Are you all right? Don't try to move! Don't move a muscle. I'm here. I'm here, sweetheart." With shaking hands, he removed the helmet carefully, brushing curls away from her face. She was ashen, pale, her eyes closed.

"Hermione?" he demanded once more. Damn. If she were dead, he would never forgive himself! Never, especially as he had tried so hard to put everything on the course so that she could live!

Gathering her into his arms, he held her back against his chest as she opened her eyes. Really, her eyes sort of fluttered open slowly, and then she said, "You're not supposed to move an injured person, Adrian Pucey. That's basic First Aid. I'm shocked that as the injured person, I'm the one that has to tell you that."

"And I'm equally shocked that you wrecked. You weren't supposed to be able to wreck this thing. I placed a leveling spell on it to keep it upright." He moved his hands over her shoulders, arms, legs. Was she really okay? Her 'know-it-all' ability was functioning, of that he knew.

"I took it off. It seemed as if that were cheating or something, after you took the time to show me the clutch and the break and how to steer and all, so I thought if I were going to learn all the particulars, I might as well put my knowledge into action." She sat upright and then winced, in pain. "Ouch. I…I'm hurt. I'm in pain. I hurt my bum and my ribs."

He rubbed his hand down her hair and moved in front of her. "Your bum and ribs? Are you sure that's all you hurt?"

She nodded and affirmed, "And my dignity."

"And goodness knows that's in short supply these days," he said with a smile. "You could have at least hit your head. It's the hardest part of you."

She didn't smile at his meager display of humour, mostly because she didn't think it was funny, and partly because she really was in a bit of pain. "Please, help me up."

Instead of helping her to stand, he pulled her over to him, propping his back against the tree, tucking her to his side. Seeing that she wasn't hurt made his heartbeat come back down to the normal seventy-two beats per minutes. Seeing his motorbike in pieces across an open field caused it to race back up again. "My poor bike. I've had it for ages and I've taught all the Vipers to drive it and you're the only one to ever wreck it."

"Does that mean I'm a Viper now? If so, doesn't that fulfill another one of my tasks, to become a Viper?"

The rumbling of his laughter, deep in his chest, reverberated against her back and shoulder. Without answering, he brushed dirt and grass from his hands and jeans, then from her sleeves and back. "Your list said you wanted to know what happened in a meeting, and no, you're not a Viper." Grabbing her face between both hands he uttered, "Seriously, look what you did to my bike."

"I can't. You have my face. But look at the bright side, I'm okay. Doesn't that count for something?" she asked lightly. She tried to push away from him, so that she could stand, but decided she would remain on the ground for now. "Where are we, anyway?"

He pulled on her arms, pulling her so that she was almost in his lap, then he looked into her face, so close to his that he could count every freckle if he so desired, and said, "You're lucky, that's what you are. Damned lucky."

"Right, lucky, that's me," she said with a bit of sarcasm. "I'm dying in four and a half months, but oh I'm so very lucky." She hit his arms away from her body and made to sit beside him again.

"Is this the 'pity poor little Hermione' part of our conversation?" he goaded.

"Heavens, no," she proclaimed. "I wouldn't want you to go against type. You've not pitied me so far, and I wouldn't want pity from you now." She sighed, and wiped her muddy hands on his jeans, which made him give her a strange look.

Using his wand to remove the mud from his jeans he asked, "You never told me how your time with Potter and Weasley went."

"And you never told me where we were. We've been driving on deserted country lanes, so this must be private property."

He didn't want to tell her that they were on Malfoy land. He didn't think she would appreciate that fact. "Never mind where we are, the question is, where's the rest of my bike? I see some there," he pointed, "and there, and there, and there."

She grabbed his hand and pulled it down to his side. Frowning, she lay back on the ground, gingerly, careful not to bump her bruised bum, and she peered up at the sunlight as it made its way through the awning of tree limbs and leaves. Taking her time to think of her response, she finally said, "I'll answer your question, even if you won't answer mine. My time with Ron and Harry was unproductive, to be sure."

He got up on his knees, looked down at her and relayed, "I could have told you as much. You went there to try to convince them to come home, didn't you? They won't come home until they find what they believe is an anti-curse. Why did you bother?" He held out his hand to help her to stand.

She hit it away. Remaining on her back, she wanted to spur him on by responding with…_'Why did I bother? Gee, maybe I don't want to die alone, have you thought of that?'_Instead, she continued to stare up at the rays of light making their escape through the interlocking leaves on the tree above her and she said, "Do you think I'd be better off if I'd had just died quickly?"

He groaned beside her. "This is the pity part of our conversation," he responded flatly. "Hermione, it was a simple motorbike accident. You said you only hurt your bum and side. For goodness sakes!"

Ignoring his ill humour, she said, "I'm not speaking of the accident. I'm speaking of the curse and the fact that I'm dying. I'm glad I'm not suffering, and I'd hate to be in constant pain, as my tailbone and such can attest at this very moment, so I'm thankful I don't have cancer like my parents had, but sometimes I wonder if I'd had been better off dying quickly, instead of this."

"You mean instead of living?" he said seriously.

"Living with an expiration date," she clarified, turning her gaze from the tree branches above them to him. "Am I better off living like I am, or would it had been better if I had died, say in the war, like Fred Weasley or Lupin. I wonder about that, when I'm alone at night. I hate being alone at night." Suddenly, she curled into a ball, on her side, and she began to cry. "I'm afraid at night."

Rubbing his hand up and down her arm he asked, "What are you afraid of, Hermione?"

"Dying alone." Then she let out a shaky laugh, then a hitched sob. "Isn't that absurd? When I'm alone I'm afraid of being alone. But really, more specifically, dying alone." She continued to cry, on her side, on the patch of grass underneath the tree.

"When my mum died, she had my dad and me with her, and even though she died in Hospital, we were with her to the very end. Same with Dad. When he died, although he died in his own bed, I was there with him, as was Harry and Ron. Who's going to be there with me, Adrian?"

He pulled her back into his lap and cradled her in his arms, holding her, rocking her back and forth. "You don't suppose Harry and Ron will stay gone do you?" he prompted. "And you've got all of us, such as we are. We aren't the same as your family, but we love you."

"But you're Vipers!" she sobbed.

He laughed, because he didn't know what she meant by that, and he was certain she didn't know either.

"Don't laugh at me. I don't know what to expect, and I don't know if it'll hurt, or if it will be peaceful, like falling asleep. I need to know! I don't want to die and I don't want to be alone at the end." She got up on her knees and started to move away.

"What makes you think we'd let that happen anyway?" he proposed, moving her to sit back down beside him. He meant that he wasn't about to let her die, but neither would he let her go through this alone. "I told you during that first meeting, when the Vipers decided to help you with your list, when you saw that I was part of the Viper's Den, although really, you already should have known I'd be there, but when you and I went to Theo's study to talk, I told you that I had no intention of letting you die, and no intention of telling the other's you were dying."

She wiped her tears away with one hand as the other moved in a mocking manner to indicate that she thought he was speaking too much. "No intention of letting me die is unrealistic and not the same as not letting me die alone, Pucey!"

Adrian grabbed her fingers and asked, "What?"

"Like you can keep me from dying! Your little theory about me falling in love with two of your pals to keep me living won't work. I spoke with Bill Weasley while I was in Peru and he confirmed what I thought. He's an expert curse breaker and he said it wouldn't work, as I already knew it wouldn't! Besides, in case you haven't noticed, Marcus loves his girlfriend, Blaise is bisexual, Draco only loves people named Draco and Theo is so broken that he doesn't even know if he's living or not, let alone how to love. I won't even mention you and me, because we know there's no you and me, so I'm as good as dead!"

"It's not my theory," he said in a placating voice. "It was written by someone way before my time, and I'll go to Hogwarts and find the book with the ancient runes that has the anti-curse in it and prove it to you." He reached over, dusted the remaining tears off her cheeks and added, "True, Marcus loves Daphne, and Draco only loves Draco, but Theo still has a great capacity to love. He only needs to find it again."

She tore her hand from his and turned her head to the side. "And Blaise?" she asked, bringing his arm up to her face and wiping her face across his sleeve.

He looked at her incredulously, grinned, and then said, "And Blaise is the glue that will hold you both together. Speaking of, you didn't really say anything when I told you that Blaise told the other lads about your curse."

She fell back to the soft earth again, staring upwards. "I don't care who knows."

He straddled her body, gazed down at her and said, "You should care, because it's going to change all of the dynamics, and whose fault is that, Granger? You're the one who told Zabini the truth about your curse, not me! Yet you left me to take care of damage control, which is all I've ever done with that lot!"

"Now who's full of pity?" She kicked her legs, and squirmed underneath him, but he was too large and too heavy and she couldn't get him to budge. "Get off me!"

"Make me!" he taunted.

"Hey, what do you mean, left you to take care of damage control? What did you tell them when Blaise told them all that I was dying? You didn't tell me before."

"I told them Blaise was lying to get attention. I told them he was stark raving!" Hermione looked outraged at that admission from him, so with a frown, Adrian placed his back against the tree again. "Of course I didn't say that. I could hardly Oblivate all of my friends memories, even if I am an Unspeakable, and I'd be well within the law to do so. Still, I implored them not to tell Theo right now."

Hermione sighed, sitting up from the ground. "Like he'd care, anyway."

Adrian wondered if he should tell her that Theo learned Beatles songs in the wake of her absence – and he's done it just for her. That when he tried to take her cat, John, back to his flat, that Theo wouldn't let the little hairball leave their townhouse. No, he wouldn't tell her. She would have to figure out some things on her own. "You're right. He probably doesn't care. Get up if you're not hurt. It's time to go home. If you want to have a good cry, you can have it there as easily as you can have it here."

"I hate you, Adrian Pucey," she whispered, a tear falling down her cheek.

He stood up and said, "Who doesn't. Come on then, give me your hand. Up and away with you." He took her hands in his, heaved, and helped her to stand in front of him. Releasing her hands, making certain she was steady, he used a spell and fixed and righted his bike. It looked a bit odd afterwards, but it was the best he could do.

"That was careless of you," he accused once more, indicating the bike, watching as she hobbling over to the fence, which she fixed with her wand.

"Seems careless is my middle name nowadays," she said softly. Leaning against the fence she complained, "Nothing's going as planned. Not the binge drinking, the dueling, or the driving the motorbike. The only thing that went right was cutting Lucius Malfoy's hair. Perhaps I should spend my last few months knitting or something. Might be boring, but safer."

He chuckled. "Cutting Lucius' hair has been the highlight so far? That's scary, isn't it? Fine, turn to knitting. You could knit a replacement jumper," he said, rubbing his hand over the worn material of the brown wool of her favourite jumper that she wore.

"I really don't know why you all don't like this jumper." She gazed down at the jumper, then back up into his face.

"My motto is love the girl, hate the jumper," he waned. Leaning casually against the fence beside her, he ventured, "Why did you leave so quickly? Did you and Theo fight?"

Shaking her head no, she answered, "No, we kissed."

"Ah, I see," he affirmed, shaking his head, which turned to a, "no, really, I don't see. What? You kissed, which is a good thing, but then you left, which is a bad thing. Explain, Hermione."

"He kissed me, and I kissed him, and we both decided it was a mistake."

When Adrian didn't respond to that, she turned to him. He was back on the mended bike, and without a word to her, he rode away.

She asked the thin air around her, "Was it something I said?"

* * *

Adrian parked the motorbike around the bend in the road, beyond Hermione's eyesight and then he Apparated back to Theo's townhouse. Running up the stairs at a fake, break-neck speed, acting out a fear he didn't really feel, he banged on the door of Theo's bedroom.

Because her and Theo kissed, and it wasn't a mistake. It was the start of something BIG! A simple kiss might be important enough to save not only her, but Theo as well, and if neither of them were going to do anything about it but run away from it, or lock themselves in bedrooms and play Beatles songs, then he'd do something about it!

He was shocked when he heard a voice in the hallway behind him ask, "What do you want, Adrian?" Theo stood behind him in the hallway, Hermione's cat in one hand.

Breathing hard, not from exertion, but from the fear that his plan might not work, he said to Theo, "We were doing an item on Hermione's list, teaching her to ride a motorbike, and she wrecked. We were right outside of London, on the Malfoy Estate, where I taught all of you to drive it, and she wrecked." He sincerely hoped he'd said the word 'wrecked' enough times to get his point across. Should he say it once more? "She wrecked."

Theo pushed the kitten into Adrian's arms and ran down the hall, out of sight. "Wait!" Adrian shouted at his friend.

Draco walked out of his bedroom, looked at the clock in the hall and said, "It's only four in the effing afternoon. Is it such a crime for you people to let a man sleep in once in a while?"

Adrian pushed the cat into Draco's hands and walked down the stairs and out of sight.

* * *

Hermione started to climb over the fence, her foot on the bottom rung, as she peered down the country lane, looking to the left and then to the right. Feeling in her jumper pocket for her wand, she was about to Disapparate back to her flat, when she heard a distinct Apparition 'pop' behind her.

Turning quickly, she saw Theo standing at her back. He rushed up to her, his hands suddenly on her cheeks, then in her dishabille hair. "Are you hurt?"

"What?" She was confused, more than hurt.

"Adrian just Apparated to our house and the first thing out of his mouth was that you had an accident. He said you wrecked the motorbike. Are you hurt?" He continued to pull on her arms, hands, turning her around, studying her for injuries.

"How did you know where to find me?"

He dropped her arms, stood up straight. That thought must not have occurred to him. "I don't know. He said you were hurt. I grabbed my wand and…I…I…I don't know. I just came to you."

"Really?"

He nodded, his hand sweeping back her hair. "Are you sure you're alright?"

She nodded. He grabbed both sides of her long, brown jumper, pulled her closer, and embraced her, but he only held her for a moment. Then he pushed her away, recoiled as if burnt, or shocked. He stumbled away from her, ending up against the same tree where only moments before Adrian and Hermione had sat. He fell down next to it, sitting on the ground.

Hermione staggered over to him. He had his dark head resting against the trunk of the tree, eyes closed. Something was wrong with him, and she didn't know what. "Theo, are you okay?" He had just asked her if she were hurt, and now, she was worried for him. He looked as if he were in pain, emotionally, but even physically unwell.

He held up a hand. It shook. "I've only ever twice before been able to hone in on a person when I thought they needed me. Now it's happened again. I didn't want it to ever happen again."

"Really?" she asked again, crawling nearer. She didn't know what else to say. She sat right beside him. "That's an unusual gift. I've never quite heard of it."

"I'm highly sensitive to people and their moods," he said huskily, his hand sweeping over his brow. "The first time it happened, my mother was dying, and I didn't even know it, she wanted to shield me from it, but suddenly, I felt a pull, right here," and he pointed at his abdomen, "and though I was with my friends, I told them I had to leave. I went to her house and found her right before she died."

"When was the other time?" Hermione saw that he still had sweat on his forehead, though there was a chill to the air. She took the end of her long jumper and wiped the edge of it across his skin, sitting back on her heels.

He didn't want to tell her about the other time. He wouldn't tell. Plus, if he told her, she might leave, and he didn't want her to leave. He liked the way she touched him, stroked his fevered brow, and grasped his shaking hand. He needed someone to take care of him. It had been a long time since someone took care of him.

"It was a very long time ago." Not that long ago. He hated lying to her.

They were both silent, sitting almost facing each other, his back to the tree, her hand innocently resting on his thigh. She didn't want to know anything else about this man, did she? She had left to get away from her feelings for this man. As if he could read her mind, he asked, "Why did you leave?"

"I was only gone a few days," she explained.

"That's not what I asked, or rather, that didn't answer my question." He found it convenient how she only answered what she wanted, yet in that respect, they were so similar. He studied her closely, measuring her as if he'd never really seen her before, or might not see her again. "Did you leave because I kissed you?"

"You didn't want to kiss me," she reminded him.

"I never said that," he frowned. He shook his head, silently, weary, and he adjusted, "I only said that it was better that we wait."

"I can't wait," she spat. She tried to stand, but he grabbed the end of her brown sweater in his hand, grasping it so tightly that his skin turned white.

He closed his eyes again, leaned his head back, and then opened them. He looked up at the patchwork of sun shining through the leaves and said, "You're very contrary, Hermione Granger."

"So are you," she leveled with a soft tone. Somehow, naturally, she leaned down so that her head was on his thigh, and she joined him, gazing up at the sun-streaked canopy above them. "What are you most afraid of, Theo?"

"I'm not afraid of anything anymore," he lied. He knew it was a lie when he said it. He knew she would know it was a lie, but damn, he wanted it to be the truth. "What is there to fear, when the worst has already happened to you?"

"Hmm, I wonder," she trailed off…her voice soft and weak. "I used to face fear without worry, feeling I was capable of anything." Her breath seemed to stick in her throat, her heart skipping a beat. She sat up, rocking herself back and forth, soothingly, "Now I feel afraid all the time. I hate that. I hate that feeling. I was the Gryffindor girl who was full of courage. I was the one that faced fear head-on. I took others by the hand and helped them through their darkest times, and now I'm so afraid all the time that I feel like such a fool."

His fingertips were in her hair. It felt good, calming, drifting from her crown down to her back.

He said, "The other time I was able to feel that someone needed me, really needed me, I decided not to go to them. I ignored the feeling. I turned away, before I found out what they needed. I've regretted that every day of my life since. That's what I mean by facing my worst fear. My worst fear was to find that I would ignore that feeling again, and I would find you hurt, or something. That it would be too late." He stopped talking. He willed her to remain looking away from him. He couldn't countenance her stare right now.

She fell back again, but this time, he helped her back, and brought her over his body, so that she was draped across his lap. "Theo, I'm afraid," she said clearly.

"So am I, Hermione."

"I think we're afraid for different reasons," she clarified, lifting her hand to touch his cheek, then taking it away quickly, as if scalded.

"I wish to hell you were wrong, but I think you're right," he agreed.

He reached his fingertips to her neck, bringing them slowly down her throat, over the curve of her collarbone, into the open collar of her shirt. His face softened as he gazed down at her. He wanted to kiss her again, but she was right, he was too afraid. He wouldn't fall in love again. Loving someone, and being afraid of losing them, hurt too much. He pushed her away, stood, and pulled her up. Then without asking her permission, he Apparated them both back to his house.

They stood in the small front garden, separated only by a walk on one side and a wrought-iron fence on the other. Draco and Blaise were standing by the gate, waiting for them.

"We didn't know if you'd be Apparating into the house, or driving back on the motorbike, so we thought we'd wait by the road. Where's Pucey, and what happened to you?" Draco asked Hermione, picking a leaf out of her hair. "Did you take a tumble?"

"Off the motorbike, but it still counts as one of my tasks completed," she explained, scratching her kitten on the ear as he wriggled in Draco's hands. Draco let the cat down at their feet. The cat moved through the iron bars separating one side of the fence from the other.

"I think if you wrecked the bike, it doesn't count," Draco goaded. "I think I'd like to see you complete one task as planned, then we'll see about them counting, Granger dear."

Blaise pushed Draco's shoulder, even as Malfoy smiled at her. She laughed and said, "Now come on, give me this one. None of the other ones have turned out as planned either, and you've let them count."

Suddenly, Marcus walked out the front door, to stand upon the stoop. She looked from one man to another, and she realized that they all, save for Theo, knew she was dying. Yet she didn't feel any differently toward them, nor did she think their affection or liking toward her was artifice or different, and for that she was grateful. She smiled.

Marcus started down the steps and he said, "Malfoy, pick up the cat. He's on the other side of the fence and he's about to go out into the road."

Just then, Adrian pulled in front of the house. He didn't see the kitten in time. All eyes turned toward the little cat as it darted out into the road.

Hermione screamed as the motorbike hit her kitten.

* * *

_A/N - I wrote this the night my cat died, so sorry. I added that last line, and was going to take it out, but didn't. However, just because "Spink" died doesn't mean that 'Bob, Zeus, Caligula, Nero, Dante, Marcus, George, or John' is dead. Really. It doesn't._

_Since then, my aunt has died as well, so it's not been a good week for me. That's also my excuse as to the reason this chapter is so late._


	22. Chp 22 Everybodys Got Something to Hide

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 22 – Everybody's got Something to Hide (Except me and my Monkey)**

Hermione Granger was talking with much animation about her motorcycle accident, as she stood on one side of the wrought-iron fence next to Theo, and Draco Malfoy stood on the other side next to Blaise. And as she continued to talk, her arms flinging and flying about, her eyes going wide, her mouth moving at speeds unknown to mortal men, Draco Malfoy thought he saw the light shine in her eyes again. It had been a long time since he'd seen it there. He didn't know how she could act so happy – joking about wrecking Adrian's motorbike, seeing how she was essentially dying and all.

Of course, who was he to judge? He hadn't even cried about it yet and he was sure he loved her.

How had he come to care for Hermione Granger? The thought that she might die an early death had left him sad and morose most of last night and today. Even now he felt almost as if he were on the edge of a sword, his smile plastic and false, yet her smile seemed quite genuine, quite 'Hermione Grangerish', especially as she went on and on about completing her 'motorbike riding task.'

Draco laughed and goaded, "I think I'd like to see you complete one task as planned, then we'll see about them counting, Granger dear."

He loved to tease and taunt her. It was one of his favourite pastimes. It always had been, since he was a wee lad, all in black, back in school. The only difference was that back then, he enjoyed it because he enjoyed her pain. Now he enjoyed it because he enjoyed the fact that she gave as good as she got, and the fact that she smiled more times often than not.

Blaise pushed Draco's shoulder, as a way to tell him to behave, but Draco merely smiled down at her. Goodness, but her light and laughter were contagious. There was a time when he thought her Mudblood germs were contagious. He would have to remind her of that soon. She would probably hit him, but she would have a good laugh at his expense too, even as she laughed now, saying, "Now come on, give me this one. None of the other ones have turned out as planned either, and you've let them count."

Marcus Flint walked out of Theo and Draco's house to stand upon the stoop by the front door. Starting down the steps he ordered, "Malfoy, pick up the cat. He's on the other side of the fence and he's about to go out into the road."

To be honest, Draco had forgotten all about the little ball of fur, but he didn't need Mr. Marcus 'Holier than Thou' Flint to tell him to keep an eye on the little bugger. Speaking of…where had he gotten to, the stupid little rotter? Draco started to look around Hermione's body, out toward the street, just catching the tail end of a brown tail when Adrian pulled up in front of the house on his fixed motorbike.

Goodness sakes! The kitten! Adrian couldn't see the kitten, and Draco was on the wrong side of the fence, so he couldn't get to it in time. Everything that happened from that point on appeared to move in slow motion. Draco saw Hermione say something up to Theo, as they stood on the side of the fence near the street. They didn't notice the cat and the motorcycle until it was too late, and the collision was a foregone conclusion.

Marcus shouted, as did Draco. The motorbike's front tire hit the poor, little cat's back legs, throwing him up into the air, where he then crashed back down, hard, on the pavement, just as Adrian skidded to a stop.

The sound of Hermione screams as the motorbike hit her kitten would be forever seared into Draco Malfoy's memory. Like someone put a branding iron with the word 'Hermione's Scream' and branded it right into his brain! Draco winced as she ran into the street after the cat, Theo, Blaise and the rest of them right behind her.

"NO!" Hermione screamed, running into the street, not paying attention to the shouts of the men behind her, or the traffic in front of her. Adrian's motorbike toppled over on its side.

Adrian was fine, and in fact, was oblivious to the events of what had caused his bike to swerve to an untimely stop. "What happened?" he asked from a few meters away, removing his helmet. Then he saw the little brown kitten on its side, legs out in front of it, not moving.

Hermione was already down on her knees beside it. She reached out a hand toward it, but then drew it back. She looked up at Draco first. Why did she have to seek him out first? He wasn't good with these sorts of things!

Then she cried, "He's dead. I know he's dead. Do you think he's dead?" Close to hysteria, tears streamed down her face as she spoke, her shoulders heaved up and down.

Blaise got down on his knees beside her, reached out a hand to the small cat, touched its head, and then stroked the fur down its spine. It wasn't moving. It didn't appear to be breathing.

Blaise turned his head and looked back at his friends, then back toward Hermione. Draco could tell that his oldest friend didn't want to confirm her worst fears, yet he had to, because it was apparent Draco wasn't going to, so Blaise answered, "Yes, I think he's dead."

She broke down. "NO! He can't be dead. He can't be. Please, God, no. Why? Why does he have to be dead? There's no reason! He was so young. Please, no. Do something. Someone, please, do something!" She cried hard, deep, inconsolable tears, while her arms wrapped around her middle, like she was trying to contain her grief, or comfort her sorrow.

Draco came up behind her, pulled her off the road so that passing cars wouldn't hit her, and moved her to the sidewalk, where he sat with her on the curb. He placed his arms around her, and then said to Marcus, "Go get something in the house to wrap him in."

Hermione quickly removed her brown jumper, moving out of Draco's embrace to do so. "Here," she offered, through her tears. "Put him in this."

Goodness knew Draco wanted the brown jumper gone, but not at the expense of the cat. Marcus reached down for the sweater, and with Blaise's help, he wrapped the tiny kitten within its warmth.

"Why, oh why is he dead, Draco?" Hermione asked Draco, her face turned to her once closest enemy, sitting next to him on the curbside.

_Because I was careless._ "I don't know, Granger," he said sincerely.

"I don't want him to be dead," she cried.

_I would do anything to bring him back._ "Neither do I, Granger," he replied.

"What do I do, what do I do?" she chanted, tears streaming down her cheeks.

_Hit me. Blame me. Curse me. Hex me_. "I wish I knew," Draco answered.

"Why do things have to die when they're so young? It's not fair, it's just not fair!" she continued.

_Nothing in life is fair__, because if it were, you wouldn't be dying. If it were fair, someone bad and evil would be dying - not you, never you._ "Nothing's fair, Granger," he said as he thought it.

"I feel so sad and so alone! Bless his soul, my poor little cat. I couldn't even give him a proper name. I was a terrible cat owner. I didn't want to love him, because I was afraid of losing him, and I lost him anyway. Do you think he knew that I loved him anyway? I did. I loved him. I hope he knew. I hope he didn't feel sad, or alone, or unloved," she chanted, still crying copious amounts of tears.

_**You're**__ not alone. __**You're**__ not unloved. Do you know that?_ "He knew, Granger dear. He knew."

Draco held her as she cried, looked up at the faces of his friends, and just as if someone had hit him upside the head with a hammer, or had rung a clanging bell inside his eardrums next to his brain, he was finally made aware of a cold hard fact for the very first time. That he was such a fraud. He was hiding something very important about himself and for no good reason. Because here was this girl, so real, so giving, yet hurting so badly for a kitten that was dying that she was shedding tears, REAL tears for it, _yet when he had found out last night that SHE was dying,_ he never even shed a single, solitary tear.

Why? Why didn't he cry? Blaise cried. Blaise cried when he told them the whole story. Marcus looked like he was about to cry as well, but he remained forever stoic. Theo wasn't privy to their conversation (playing loud Beatles songs on the piano not withstanding) and Adrian had already left, but Draco bet Adrian had already cried buckets of tears for her since he'd found out.

But when Draco heard the news, he just sat in his chair, nursing a tall gin and tonic, and he didn't shed one fucking tear. He'd known Hermione Granger for 15 years. More than half his life. And his best friend told him that she had only four and a half months to live and Draco didn't cry.

What kind of man had he become? What kind of monster was he? The kind his father had always wanted him to be, that's who.

He grew up hating her kind because he was told to hate her kind. After he met her, he hated her because she was a know-it-all, little bitchy-swot, who happened to be best friends with the person Draco hated most in the world, so he hated her by association. Later, he became mature enough to realize that he never really hated any of them. His father and his kind hated them, but Draco didn't…not Potter, not Granger, and not even little red Weasley-hood. He didn't really understand them, but he didn't hate them.

And as he became a man, he began to desire her a bit. She was a pretty woman. Beautiful even. Sexy in a pent-up frustrated, librarian sort of way. After she moved in upstairs, he even began to have erotic dreams about her almost every night, and although he knew Theo was perhaps (someone kill Draco now!) falling in love with her, and Blaise felt whatever the hell Blaise felt for her, Draco was beginning to feel stronger feelings for her, too.

Yep, in Draco Malfoy's own little perverted way, he loved her. But he didn't cry when he heard she was dying.

He spent all night long thinking about it, and he didn't cry. He even tried to cry, but he couldn't. He would miss her, he was certain of that. It would kill Theo if she died, perhaps literally, which in the end might end all of their friendships. And while he didn't doubt that Adrian (or perhaps St. Potter) would come in and save the day at the last moment and she would live to be 103, just in case, just on the off chance that she really did die on the 18th of September, Draco wanted to be sure that he would be able to cry for her at her funeral.

Because he would miss her. Wouldn't he?

Draco couldn't even recall the last time he cried. It was during school, probably during his final year at Hogwarts, when the Dark Lord was in power. He was sure he cried once or twice that year, most assuredly in secret, because his father would never have abided tears from him in public.

That was the thing. Draco had a public persona and a private one, but during the last ten years or so, they had become so enmeshed that he wasn't sure who was who anymore. Private Draco painted, and no one really knew that (save for Hermione Granger). Private Draco hated anything to do with pureblood politics. Private Draco was so tired of pretending he was perfect. Private Draco didn't like having a lot of money. Private Draco was tired of being embarrassed by public Draco's boorish and outlandish behavior.

Private Draco should have been able to cry when he found out that a girl he'd known most of his life, which was important to his happiness and the happiness of his mates, and whom he'd come to think of as a friend was dying.

But public Draco took over last night, protected private Draco from pain for once, therefore he didn't shed one freaking tear for her.

Yet somehow, suddenly, seeing her crying over a dead kitten, well, that was another story, wasn't it. Draco was suddenly a leaking faucet. Yes. Draco Malfoy had begun to cry because a damn kitten was dead.

Well fuck his sodding black soul to hell and back again.

* * *

_Get Marcus' reaction to the news of her curse tomorrow night. (And you'll find out if the kitten lives or dies…promise.)_


	23. Chapter 23 Cry, Baby, Cry

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 23 – Cry, Baby, Cry**

Marcus Flint walked out of Theo and Draco's house to stand upon the stoop by the front door. Hermione was standing on the other side of the fence by Theo. She seemed happy enough, especially since she had just had a slight motorbike accident. Marcus couldn't see if Adrian had returned yet, but as he started down the steps toward his friends, he saw the little kitten he'd gotten Granger was on the other side of the fence, running toward his mistress.

Marcus barked out, "Malfoy, pick up the cat. He's on the other side of the fence and he's about to go out into the road."

He could tell that Draco didn't like being told what to do by him, but to be honest, Draco never liked being told what to do by anyone. Still, the 'blond Adonis' started to look around Hermione's body, out toward the street, for the little guy. Not that it mattered. It was too late. Marcus knew it was too late when he heard the sounds of the motorbike engine coming down the lane.

How much more suffering could Granger be forced to endure? Her little kitten was going to die and it was all his fault! He shouldn't have gotten it for her in the first place, and after he did, he should have kept a better watch over the little thing!

Because Adrian couldn't see the kitten, and Draco was on the wrong side of the fence, so he couldn't get to it in time. Blaise saw it but was too shocked to move, and Marcus rushed down the stairs but it was too late. He shouted, as did Draco. The motorbike's front tire hit the poor, little cat's back legs, throwing him up into the air, where he then crashed back down, hard, on the pavement, just as Adrian skidded to a stop.

Hermione screamed and ran into the street, the rest of the Vipers right behind her.

"NO!" Hermione cried, Adrian's motorbike toppling over on its side as she fell to her knees by her kitten.

"What happened?" Adrian asked from a few meters away, removing his helmet. Then he saw the little brown kitten on its side, legs out in front of it, not moving.

Hermione reached out a hand toward it, but then drew it back. She looked up at Draco first. "He's dead. I know he's dead. Do you think he's dead?"

Blaise got down on his knees beside her, reached out a hand to the small cat, touched its head, and then stroked the fur down its spine. It wasn't moving. It didn't appear to be breathing.

Blaise turned his head and looked back at his friends. His eyes went to Marcus' eyes first. They always did. Blaise always went to Marcus first. Always had, ever since they were lads. Marcus knew at that moment that his friends needed him to be strong…for Hermione, and for Theo, and for all of them.

Blaise answered, "Yes, I think he's dead."

She broke down. "NO! He can't be dead. He can't be. Please, God, no. Why? Why does he have to be dead? There's no reason! He was so young. Please, no. Do something. Someone, please, do something!"

Draco placed his arms around her, and then said to Marcus, "Go get something in the house to wrap him in."

Hermione quickly removed her brown jumper, moving out of Draco's embrace to do so. "Here," she offered, through her tears. "Put him in this."

Marcus reached down for the sweater, and with Blaise's help, he wrapped the tiny kitten within its warmth and he took it into the house. Theo brushed by him on the way into the house and he took the kitten and jumper right from his shaking hands. Rushing toward the back of the house, into the kitchen, Theo placed the poor little, broken soul on the butcher-block table and began to administer spell after spell on his lifeless body.

It was all so reminiscent of when they found Astoria. Theo tried so hard to save her that day, too. It was too late. He hoped that it wouldn't be too late for Hermione's kitten.

Marcus shook that memory from his foggy brain. He felt Blaise beside him as he felt an arm go around his waist. He knew it was Blaise's arm. He placed his own around the other man's shoulder.

He knew he shouldn't have let Hermione Granger into all of their lives, but it was too late now. The damage was already done. They were already to the point of 'caring' about her. He knew it the night he took her to get pissed.

The night Marcus Flint took Hermione Granger out to get drunk she confessed that she had only until her birthday to live. She retracted it later. Still, a part of him wondered if she were telling the truth all along. He confronted Blaise about it that night and the younger man said it wasn't true. Marcus had a feeling that it was. And Blaise confirmed it just last night when he told the other Vipers that Hermione Granger, their very own little cub, the brave little Gryffindor, only had until her birthday in September to live.

Marcus felt numb after he heard the news. It wasn't as if he was in love with the woman, but he did _love_ her and she had become important to all of them in a short amount of time. In addition, he knew that Blaise, indefinable and elusive, was falling for her in his own off handed, 'love them for the person' sort of way. Draco was starting to think of her as something more than just a 'bed-conquest' and a former enemy. Adrian had always cared for her. Moreover, Theo...Well...Theo was falling in love with her. Hard. Any fool could see that, and Marcus Flint was no fool.

Marcus Flint was a man of simple means. He loved whom he loved, hated whom he hated, protected those who needed protected, and would give his life for those in his small inner circle whom were more like family to him than friends. His own family was fractured and broken long ago. His father (a former Death Eater extraordinaire) died in the final battle of Hogwarts. His mother was a recluse, who rarely went out or received visitors or friends. Therefore, the five members of the Vipers (Draco, Blaise, Theo and Adrian) were more than just his friends. They were his brothers.

He would give his life for them. His role in this little group was one of older brother and protector. If Adrian was the right hand of the group, forever guiding the group on the proper path - he was the left hand. He was there to pick up the pieces that the right hand occasionally dropped, as well as there to make a fist to protect that right hand should someone come along and threaten it.

In the beginning, he thought of Hermione Granger as that threat. He thought she was going to be another Astoria Greengrass. They were forced to accept Astoria Greengrass into their small group for multiple reasons. She was betrothed (much to his chagrin) from infanthood on, to Draco Malfoy. She was also Marcus' own fiancée little sister. Nevertheless, from the moment that Astoria decided (for it was a conscious, cognizant decision on her part) to ingratiate herself into their group, she changed the dynamics completely – and for the worse.

She used to follow all of them around like a sick little puppy when they were kids. She had a massive crush on Draco, but he couldn't stand the sight of her. When they grew older, she became beautiful, vivacious, and sexy as hell. Draco still wanted nothing to do with her. And rightly so, because there was a sadness about her, too. There was darkness in her, which was more than a depression. A darkness bordering on evil. While there was a sadness about her, but she was no wilting lily. She could be mean, and vindictive and petty and jealous.

Where Daphne was sweet and lovely, Astoria was often callous and snide. One would almost think that made her perfect for Malfoy…that they were two peas in a pod. However, those who really knew Malfoy knew that his meanness – his selfishness – his pettiness – was all an act. Oh yes, a well defined act, brought about from years of experience, crafted by necessity as a way of coping with Lucius as a father. The real Draco, as Marcus knew, was more than that. He could care deeply for people. He could love and show people he cared for them. He was, at times, insecure and afraid, and he shared these things about himself with his true friends, the Vipers.

Nevertheless, Astoria, while also often insecure and afraid, didn't want anyone to know these things about her. Not even her own sister. When Daphne would try to reach out to her, try to help her out of her dark times, she would strike out at her, cause her pain.

And when she found out that Theo had feelings for her, she played on those feelings to try to make Draco jealous, stupid girl that she was. And it almost worked. She almost caused a permanent wedge between them all, one in which Theo almost died, Marcus and Draco's friendship almost didn't survive, one in which Blaise almost ran away from, and Adrian almost gave up on.

When Adrian suggested bringing Granger into their folds, Marcus made a silent vow that he wouldn't let another woman fracture the fragile fabric of their friendship ever again. But of course, Hermione Granger wasn't Astoria Greengrass.

Marcus took Blaise's hand and walked back outside to their friends, leaving Theo alone inside with the kitten. If the cat survived, it would mean, at least in Marcus' mind, that Hermione and all of them would survive. Simple and crude rationale, but it was his thought, even so.

Outside, Hermione was still crying. Draco was rubbing a hand over her back, trying his best to sooth her as she rocked back and forth. Between her tears she said things such as, "Why?" and "not fair," and "so young." Marcus was thinking all of the same things, only instead of thinking these things about her cat, he was thinking them about her.

Marcus noticed a tear splash onto her back from Draco's face, just as Malfoy looked up toward the sky, as if he was looking to see where it had come from or something. The strange tableau unfolding in front of Marcus was so sad, that it was almost comical. Marcus wanted to point out to Malfoy that the tear came from his own eye, but he knew Draco was a smart man and would realize it eventually.

And that eventuality came within seconds when Draco noticed that there wasn't a cloud in the sky (so it wasn't rain) and no one was standing near them (so it wasn't from another person.) Then, Draco felt his own cheek, looked at the wetness on his hand and he seemed particularly perturbed. Marcus noticed right away and almost smiled. Draco Malfoy was crying!

Marcus looked up at the sky, just as Draco had done earlier, but he did it to make sure it wasn't going to come crashing down on all of their heads. (And no, the sky wasn't falling.) Marcus rushed back into the house, before the rest of them.

Adrian got down on his haunches beside the pair. "Hermione, I'm so sorry."

"It was an accident, Adrian. You didn't mean to kill him. I know it. I can't believe it. He's dead, Adrian." She threw her arms around him and continued to cry.

"Let's get her inside," Blaise suggested.

Adrian tried to pick her up, but faltered. "I hurt my leg a bit," he lied. In truth, he was overwhelmed with heartache and grief. He was once again the reason for Hermione Granger's tears and the truth of that was like a knife twisting in his heart. He pushed Hermione out of his hold and stood up, opting to go straight into the townhouse.

Blaise took his place, went down to sweep her carefully into his arms, and then gracefully stood and carried her into the house.

When they crossed the threshold, they were shocked to see Theo and Marcus standing in the foyer with a very much alive brown kitten in their hold.

"Hermione," Blaise said with a shaking voice, "you might want to lift your head off my chest and look up."

She did.

"Paul?" she asked.

Blaise said, "She's delirious. She's asking for someone named Paul."

"Who?" Marcus asked with a smile.

"My cat, Paul, he's alive?" She squirmed out of Blaise's arms and ran over to the man holding the kitten.

Marcus continued to smile and placed him gingerly into her arms. "Well, whatever his name is at the moment, Theo healed him. He opened his little green eyes, took a small breath, so Theo said several healing spells over him and we were just about to bring him out to you."

Draco walked up behind them and said, "We should just call the stupid cat, 'He Who Can Not Just Have One Name'."*

Holding her cat tightly to her bosom, she looked up into hazel eyes and asked Theo, "Why aren't you a healer? You obviously have natural ability when it comes to that. You healed my hand that day; you're sensitive to people's pain. Oh well, it doesn't signify. Just thank you. Thank you."

He nodded, reached over and cupped her cheek, and with his thumb, he brushed away a tear.

She laughed and said, "My goodness, but I was crying up a storm out there, wasn't I?"

Marcus knocked his arm into Draco as they stood in the doorway and said, "You weren't the only one."

Draco wiped away the last few tears from his cheeks and said, "What! I wasn't crying! It was starting to rain! These are raindrops on my face!"

Marcus moved to look out the front living room windows. "The sun's shining!"

"Well, a rain cloud moved in really quickly," Draco lied. "Or maybe I have an eye infection! Have you thought of that? You might be making fun of me, and I might be going blind this very second, then how will you all feel?"

"As if you were really crying, and we were taking the mickey out of you?" Blaise responded seriously.

Draco stomped his foot. "Malfoys don't cry for goodness sakes, especially for effing kittens! I don't even like kittens! Next thing you'll say is that we like bunnies and flowers, or something!"

"Hear, hear," Adrian said from his place on the bottom of the stairs. "Malfoys hate bunnies and flowers, and they don't cry for kittens. However, they just might for their friends!"

"And they hate pink!" Blaise added. "They abhor anything pink or fuzzy or warm." He smiled slyly, but added, "But they do cry for their friends."

"Oh, and they really hate Muggles and Muggle-borns. They detest Mudbloods with bushy hair the most," Hermione joked. She looked at Draco. "But they do cry for their friends."

Draco stomped his foot even harder. "For your information, we really do detest pink, we eat bunnies for lunch, kittens for dinner, we stomp on flowers at every chance we get and we really, really hate Muggles and Muggle-borns, and we detest Mudbloods with curly-hair and cute freckles on their noses especially!"

He turned to walk into the other room, turned back to look at everyone, and said, "And fine, once in a while, when someone they love is hurting, they might shed one or two occasional tears, not that I'm admitting anything." He winked at Hermione and went into the living room, where he made himself a scotch, straight up.

Hermione nuzzled her kitten's nose and then let him down on the floor. She followed Draco into the room and sat beside him on one of the long white couches. Blaise sat on the other side.

Marcus took up residence on the opposite couch, Adrian remained standing near the doorway, and Theo sat on the opposite couch's arm.

Blaise stated, "Since we're all suddenly here together, why don't we get this weekly Viper's meeting started. I want to start it with a question. When was the last time everyone cried?"

"Five seconds ago," Hermione said with a laugh. "For you and me both, right, Draco?"

Blaise placed his arm around her neck, pulling her close. "Not counting Miss Watering Can over here." No one answered. In fact, they all looked rather ill at ease. He goaded, "Come on, gentlemen, if in fact, that's what you are. I asked a question, and this is a Viper's club meeting, so you must answer."

Hermione jumped up and down in her seat. "Wait a minute, wait a minute, _wait a minute_! Are you serious? This is a meeting! I'm in a meeting!" She clapped her hands together, excited. "I'm in a true Viper's meeting. Oh joy!"

"Yes," Blaise said to her with a smile. "I think you've earned the right to be in a meeting, after everything that's happened. I called a meeting while Adrian was gone and I'm the next on the list to help you with a task, so this is what I'm doing. I'm helping you to attend a Viper's club meeting, in the hopes of you becoming one."

Adrian moved over to sit upon the hearth of the marble fireplace. "Blaise, that's not reasonable. First, she doesn't fit the two basic requirements to becoming a Viper. She's not a male, nor was she in Slytherin. So while we can call this a meeting, she can never be a Viper."

Hermione pouted, "So not fair, Pucey! And to think, I had just forgiven you for killing my cat!"

* * *

_(*Thanks to LadyGrangerSnape for the Kitten's name and I__ wonder if Hermione can pass the other requirements to becoming a Viper?)_


	24. Chapter 24 I Wanna be Your Man

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 24 – I Wanna be Your Man**

Hermione sat on the couch with a sly smile on her face that could rival the Cheshire cat from _Alice in Wonderland_. She was going to get to become a Viper. She just knew it. One more thing was going to be crossed off her list. Which meant that she was one-step closer to preparing for the inevitable: Dying.

The dying part didn't make her happy, but the feeling that she was in control of her fate, and that she was completing her list made her ecstatic.

"Hermione," Adrian asked, while standing from his place on the hearth, "do you mind leaving us for a moment? We need to discuss some things alone."

Smile still in place, she said with a salute, "Certainly, El Capitan. I shall go upstairs and change into clothes that don't have gravel on them from the road. I did just survive a motorbike accident, by the way, didn't I, _Mr. Almost Cat Killer_?" Smiling sweetly, she Disapparated from the spot.

Draco laughed outright and said, "She got you there, you 'Almost Cat Killer' you."

The other men hid their laughs and smiles as their unofficial leader, pseudo older brother, and actual eldest member frowned. "Listen gents, we all know that the Viper's Den isn't an actual club. The Viper's Den isn't an actual place! We started this little club, at least in the beginning, as a lark and as a way to get away from people and our responsibilities."

He turned to Draco. "While we're name calling, what about you, _Mr. Don't Have a Care in the World?_ If your father, Lucius Malfoy, turned to you, long hair flowing, cane pointing toward your chest, and he said, 'Boy, I have an errand for you to do today. You must round up five Muggles for me so I can roast them on a fire later,' you could turn to him and say, 'sorry, Daddy-dear, but I have a meeting at the Viper's club in ten minutes. We're discussing politics tonight'."

Adrian turned to Marcus next. "And you, _Mr. Domesticated Bliss_, if the little woman wanted you to help her decorate the downstairs den, you could always turn to her and say that you were going out with the Vipers to visit a bunch of sick kids, when in reality, you were going with the lads to play Quidditch with a bunch of former Ravenclaws."

Turning to Theo he said, "_Mr. Cat Healer_, you've used the Vipers as an excuse not to go visit your sick grandfather."

To Blaise he said, "And you've used them to get out of going to one of your mum's many weddings, _Mr. Handsome_!"

Blaise turned to Draco and said, "Ha! I'm the only one he called handsome!"

Adrian walked to the middle of the room. "Sure we have unofficial rules of deportment and decorum, but we don't really have real rules of joining except two which she can't ever meet…being former Slytherin and being male. I don't mind if she finds out that the Viper's den is just a cover for us, but I almost think that would be cruel to do that to her at this point."

"Then what do you propose we do, _Mr. Pontificate_? You're huffing and puffing, but not getting to a point!" Draco sighed.

Adrian had to act carefully here. He knew that four of them knew Hermione was dying now, and one, Theo, did not. Still, they all felt it was important for her to complete her list. "What I propose, is that we go ahead and let her join, but don't make it easy for her. What would be the point of that? This is Hermione Granger, for goodness sakes! She'd derive no enjoyment from that, I assure you."

He walked around the room, looking at each man as he spoke. "We tell her that there are a series of initiations that must be completed before she joins, even though she'll already know it's not a 'real club', by our rules and regulations. I don't think she'll appreciate a few of them, but that can't be help. After she completes the initiations, then, and only then, will we have a real meeting in front of her. It's the only way."

He sat back down.

Blaise thought for a moment, and then said, "Brilliant suggestion, _Oh Talkative One_. I'll go up, give her the good news and the rules, and then bring her back down, shall I?" And with that, he too Disapparated on the spot.

A moment later, he was knocking on Hermione's door. She answered on the second knock, almost as if she were standing there, waiting for him. He opened the door, noticed that she had changed clothes, combed her hair, washed her face, and that she looked as pretty, fresh, and desirable as ever.

He inhaled. She even smelled pretty, if that were possible. He loved her. There was no other explanation. He loved her and that was that. He wasn't going to lose her. He would fight to save her, somehow. He didn't know how yet, but somehow he would fight for her life.

He fought for the other person that he loved, and he lived, so he would fight for her, too. Even if he didn't get to have her in the end, he would fight for her to live.

When she told him that she was dying, he tried very hard to be stoic. Later, when he was alone, he cried like a baby. That night, he couldn't remember the last time he cried – but then it dawned on him - it was when he was ten years old and his mother's husband at the time (was it husband three or four?) told him if he couldn't keep his dog from barking at night, he would silence him forever.

And that was what the bastard did.

The man pointed his wand right at the little spaniel and killed him one night when he was barking at a mouse that was in Blaise's room. Blaise was still in bed, half-awake, half-asleep, but then totally in shock when the man rushed in the room, yelled at the dog, then silenced him forever with one swish of his wand.

Blaise knew real hate in his heart that day, for he hated that man for what he had done. Blaise picked the little dog up, held his body, and cried over him all night long. The next day, Marcus Flint came over with his mother for a visit. Marcus was older than Blaise, but he was always nice to him, so when Marcus asked Blaise if he wanted to go outside and play, Blaise asked him if he could do him a favour instead.

Marcus agreed. Blaise took Marcus up to his room, and showed him the body of his dog wrapped in a blanket. Without asking a question, Marcus knew what to do. He took the dog in his arms, with Blaise right beside him, went outside and buried the little thing, covering the grave with a large stone.

Then the older, taller boy placed a protective arm around Blaise and he said, "If the man ever hurts you, let me know and I'll take care of him."

To this day, that was why Blaise went to Marcus first when he had a problem. He was closer to Draco and Theo, but he felt protected by Marcus. The night he found out that Granger was dying he went to Marcus and Daphne's house, knocked on their door, fell into Marcus' arms and cried and cried.

Marcus didn't ask any questions that night either. He didn't say a word. He let the younger man cry until he fell asleep on the couch.

Blaise felt as if a burden had been lifted when 'Drunk Hermione' told Marcus the truth – but then she lied and took it back, so Blaise felt torn. He couldn't betray her. Yet yesterday evening, (was it really just last night) when he told all of the other men finally, save for Theo, that she was really dying, he didn't feel better for having told them. He didn't feel as if a burden had been lifted from his shoulders. No – he felt as if he were the worst sort of cad. It hurt to be the bearer of such sad news. The hurt on all of their faces was almost more than Blaise could bear – even Adrian, who already knew – was horrified, and Adrian even popped away almost immediately after Blaise told them.

Well, Blaise was going to fix everything. Usually Adrian or Marcus fixed everything, and Blaise was happy to let them, but he wasn't a child any longer. He was going to help Hermione Granger fulfill her list, and then somehow he was going to lift this curse from her – because he loved her.

"Blaise?" she asked, because he was staring. "Are we ready to go back downstairs? Am I about to become a Viper?"

"There's a little initiation ritual you must go through first, and I have to present you with our rules, and you have to adhere to them, is that understood?" he asked, his eyebrows up, a crooked grin on his face.

She looked so eager as she nodded her yes.

He took out his wand and wrote on her wall the ten rules of being a Viper.

**The Rules of the Viper's Den -**

1 – Be a male

2 – Be a former Slytherin

3 – Don't tell anyone it isn't a real Club

4 – Don't ever talk about boring things, like your work or personal life, during club meetings

5 – Never expose fellow Viper's secrets

6 – Snakes before Skanks

7 – If it doesn't hurt anyone, then it's okay to do, even if it's morally wrong

8 – If a fellow Viper needs you, no matter when, no matter where, no matter why, you see to your fellow snake

9 – Never leave rings on Theo's furniture

10 - Above all else, have fun

Hermione read the list, her smile suddenly turning into a frown. "Wait a freaking minute." She walked over to the wall and read them again. "What in the world." She turned to Blaise. "It's not a real club?"

He shrugged.

"Number six is crude and derogatory toward women," she replied.

He didn't respond.

"I can't believe the last one is a real rule! And come on! Number 9 is plain silly! I mean, I knew Theo was a coaster freak, but it's a Viper rule?" She turned to him with a mask of confusion on her face.

He said, "Adrian wanted us to present you with the rules, so I did. Think whatever you may about them, right or wrong, they are what they are. You see, we formed the Viper's Den as a way to get away with being with our mates whenever we wanted. We could tell people we were at a club meeting, when in reality, we were just hanging out together, or going to a pub, or something."

"But what about your decision to help me?" She turned back to the list, read the rules over quickly, and asked him again, "What about me? I don't see anything on the list about helping people."

"Oh no, that's genuine." He sat on her chair, reached for her wrist, his long fingers wrapping around it as he pulled her down to sit in his lap, just because he wanted her near. With her this close he could smell the soap that she used to wash her face, count the freckles on her nose, see each eyelash on her eyes, and feel the small puffs of breaths as she exhaled.

He felt as if he were in heaven. Or maybe this was hell.

He explained, "Every few months we pick a real cause to work on, or a real person to help, or we do something for one of the other Vipers. Adrian mentioned that you wanted to come here to live and you needed help, and then Theo showed us your list, and we decided to help you."

She bit her bottom lip. He felt his groin tighten. Damn, but she was so desirable and she didn't even know it. He remembered what it felt like to hold her in his arms, have her under him, around him, to be inside her. He wanted to do it again. He gripped the arms of the chair so that he wouldn't push her off his lap and take her on the floor right there and then.

She asked, "Did you all take on my list because you knew I was dying? You acted surprised when I told you originally, but was that a lie? Did Adrian tell everyone to get them to agree?"

Suddenly, he swallowed the lump in his throat. No, Adrian didn't tell everyone, but he just did. Truthfully, he answered, "No. Adrian didn't tell us. Adrian knew, and you told me later. We agreed to help you because most of us thought it would be fun, or in the words of Malfoy, 'a right fun lark to help the Gryffindor golden girl'. That's all, little cub." He smiled back at her, but it felt weak.

She sprang from his lap, her smile back in place. "Good. I'd hate to think that everyone was helping me out of pity. I don't want that. I wish I hadn't told you. I want people to act normally around me. I don't want pity at all. Is that understood, Blaise? Don't tell a soul."

Suddenly, he wished he were Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy was a better liar than he was, although he was pretty accomplished as well. He stood, ambled over to her with as much sex appeal oozing off him as he could muster (and he knew he could muster a lot) and throwing one arm around her shoulders, he said, "Just worry about completing this task, little cub. Especially the first two. How are you going to do them?"

"I've got those two already figured out, so let's go join the others." She took his hand and started toward the door.

.

While Blaise and Hermione were upstairs, Draco leaned forward on the couch and said, "I have a good initiation exercise for Granger. We tell her that she has to sleep with each of us."

Marcus threw a pillow at him from the couch, while Adrian groaned and Theo laughed. Marcus said, "You git. That would mean that we all slept together, because we have to act as if we went through these initiations. Except for Blaise, as far as I know, the rest of us are straight as arrows."

Draco threw the pillow back at him and said, "It was just a suggestion, Flint." Then he frowned at the other man. He was certain he was the only one who hadn't slept with her yet, and that rankled him to no end.

Theo leaned forward, hands between his legs, and suggested, "We could make her pull a prank on Potter or some other Gryffindor. That sounds like something we'd make a Viper do."

"Except St. Potter's in Peru, you daft prat," Draco pitched back. "Except, that's not half bad," he continued. "There's bound to be other tossers out there who used to be Gryffindorks. Blimey, Nott, that's really not half bad."

"Glad you approve," Theo laughed.

Adrian agreed with his, "Hear, hear. We have one initiation. We need a couple more. We can't have her thinking all we do is muck around at our meetings. I just thought about our rules. If Blaise is up there showing them to her, she already knows it's not a real club, but that doesn't have to mean she has to think the way is easy and clear to get in."

Marcus spoke up, "I have one. She should have to stay the night, all night long, in the forest behind Malfoy Manor, where all the prominent Slytherins are buried."

Draco and the rest started to smile. Marcus continued, "I mean it's perfect. For one thing, we all did it when we were just kids, and mainly because we dared each other to do it. Granted none of us did it alone. We did it in pairs or groups, but we were much younger than she was, and much dimmer. She's braver than we are, so she won't be as afraid."

"She can take someone with her," Draco added. "For companionship." He would suggest that she take him, since it was his family's property – and perhaps he would get his shag after all. A shag in the woods was better than no shag at all.

"Oh, Vipers, I just thought of a good one," Adrian piped up. "She should have to nick something. Something Slytherin, from the Slytherin common room at Hogwarts, or something from the Slytherin Club in Diagon Alley. That's going to be hard, but if anyone can do it, it'll be her."

Everyone smiled and laughed and agreed.

Blaise and Hermione walked through the door at that moment. Adrian stood up and asked, "Are you ready to become a Viper, Hermione Granger?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and said, "I think I can handle the list of ten rules. I've already got the two hardest ones down, and the rest are easy enough to follow."

"Well," Adrian started, "you can tell us about the first two in a moment, after I tell you about the three initiations you must go through."

"Hit me," she said, hands on hips, no fear in her eyes.

Draco spoke first, "You have to go to George Weasley's joke shop, dressed as a clown, and you have to sing a song in front of everyone."

"WHAT?" a collective shout rang out, not only from Hermione, but also from the four other men.

"It's brilliant," Draco said with a laugh. He turned back to Hermione. "Really, the real initiation is just to do something embarrassing to a former Gryffindor, but it dawned on me that YOU, my dear Granger, are a former Gryffindor, am I right?"

She tapped her shoe on the floor, crossed her arms over her chest, and glared at him.

He still waited for an answer.

Finally, she said, "You know I am you arse."

"And, two of your things on your list are to get over your fear of clowns and to sing in public, right?"

"Draco Malfoy, get to your point!" she barked.

"Well, I just think it would be damn embarrassing, for you and frankly, for all of us, because we would be watching, for you to sing in public as a clown, but at least if you did it in a joke shop, you wouldn't look too much out of place. At least I'm giving you that one."

"How is that going to help me get over my fear of clowns?" she shouted.

"I don't have a degree in psychology!" he leveled. "I don't know why you're afraid of clowns. I don't know if one accidentally stepped on your toes with his enormous feet when you were a kid, or if one hit you with his red nose once, or if you got water in your eye from his boutonnière. Your personal problems are just that – YOUR PERSONAL PROBLEMS!"

"All I know is that I'm coming up next, after Blaise, and I'm picking the clown one from the list, and we might as well pick the singing one too, because that will embarrass you, and you'll get your initiation done. So there!"

He sat back, nodded his head with another 'so there' nod and then picked up his glass of gin and took a big swig, placing it back down with a bang, and not on a coaster, just to see if she'd notice.

"COASTER, you moron!" she shouted at him. She exhaled a long breath as Draco Malfoy placed his glass on a coaster, looked at all the other men and then said, "Fine, I agree to the first initiation. What are the other ones?"

"You can do one of them when you do one of the things on your list, too," Marcus said. "You have to steal something from the Slytherin Common room, so you can wait until you spend your night at Hogwarts to do that one, if you want."

"But that means I won't become a Viper right away," she scowled.

"No, we'll let you join, it'll just be a process. It doesn't have to be from the common room at Hogwarts, though. It can be something from the Slytherin Club in Diagon Alley, but you'd never be able to enter there, so really, Marcus' proposition is the best," Adrian suggestion. "Theo, tell her the third one."

Theo looked at her face. She was no longer smiling. She was back to frowning. He could tell she was thinking hard, and contemplating whether or not if she wanted to complete this task. Well, he would make this last initiation easy for her. "The last one is that you have to spend the night in the Malfoy family cemetery, all night long, where many prominent Slytherins are buried, but you don't have to do it alone. Every single one of us will be there with you, won't we?" He looked around the room.

Adrian looked surprised by that suggestion. Marcus smiled. Blaise nodded. Draco looked angry. Theo didn't care. Finally, every man nodded or voiced their agreement. Hermione shrugged and said, "Fine. I can sleep anywhere. Who's afraid of a graveyard full of old snakes?" Then she walked into the middle of the room and asked, "Is there more?"

No one said a word. "Fine, then let's do that one tonight and get it over with, because I intend to do the singing and clown one tomorrow night." She looked at Blaise and said, "Come upstairs with me and help me pick out a good outfit for a night in a cemetery."

As they started to leave, Adrian stopped them with a whistle.

"Wait a moment, Hermione." She turned back. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

"What?" she asked, innocently.

"You can't even begin to join the Vipers until you tell us how you intend to pull off the first two things on the list…being a male and being a former Slytherin."

Draco let out an expletive. Marcus sighed. Theo groaned. Blaise smiled once more, because he knew she had something up her sleeve.

She walked toward Adrian, who stood to meet her by the fireplace. She poked him in the chest and said, "One time, back in school, I used Polyjuice potion to become a Slytherin along with Harry and Ron so that we could go to the Slytherin common room."

He eyed her suspiciously. "I've never heard this story, but go on."

She wasn't about to tell them that she plucked the hair of a CAT not a person, and spent the entire evening in the bathroom stall. Harry and Ron had gone to the common room and had told her all about it. So she explained to them that it was the year of the Chamber of Secrets, and she proceeded to tell them exactly what the common room of Slytherin dungeons looked like, from Harry and Ron's description. She looked at Draco and told him, verbatim, about his conversation with the boys from that day, so long ago.

"I thought that was Crabbe and Goyle!" Draco shouted. "Hold on, where were you, though? Who were you? I don't recall seeing anyone else that evening."

"I was Millicent Bulstrode," she said clearly. "And I was around, never you mind where." She turned back to Adrian and said, "So, does that count as being a Slytherin?"

"Yes, by Merlin, I would say it does. But you were a girl under Polyjuice, Hermione, not a male," he said condescendingly.

She placed a hand on his arm, and said with sweet condensation right back, "Yes, but during the war with Voldemort, I once used Polyjuice to become Harry Potter, along with five of my friends. There were seven Harry's, so we could safely move him from his Aunt's house to the Burrow, although we were betrayed and Mad-eye Moody was killed." She nodded her head after that long explanation and waited for his response.

He held out his hand and said, "It's nice to have another Viper in our ranks, Hermione. I'll see you in a graveyard in about five hours."

* * *

_A/N - I think the next couple of chapters should be a lot of fun, especially the grave yard chapter. And just in time for Halloween. OOOOOOOOOHHHHHHH,AAHHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH. Was that scary enough for you?_


	25. Chapter 25 Because

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 25 – Because**

Sitting on the ground in the middle of an old graveyard, near some broken down tombstones, a group of friends were huddled together in a tight circle to ward off the chill in the summer nighttime air. They had been in the graveyard for only an hour and it was close to midnight. In the words of Hermione Granger, it was 'the witching hour', so she suggested that they tell scary stories.

Adrian Pucey started. He told everyone what he presumed to be a very scary story full of murder, mayhem, and an ax-welding crazy man. It sounded eerily like a Stephen King novel, or more to the point, a Stephen King novel, turned into a movie, called, _'The Shining'_. When Marcus pointed this fact out to him, Adrian winced and said, "Hmmm, you're familiar with Muggle folklore, are you?"

Hermione laughed and said, "Folklore? That's pop culture, not folklore, Pucey! You mean to tell us you're trying to fob off a Stephen King novel as your own scary story. For shame! Now, someone else tell us a scary story!"

While the others reprimanded their leader, Marcus was heard to say, "I've got a very scary one I can tell." He began to tell a fascinating tell of four young boys who heard about a dead body in the woods, so they decided to go find it.

"Wait a moment," Adrian protested. "That's a Stephen King story, too."

"No it's not," Marcus lied. "It's a true story. It happened to a chum of mine's little brother."

Adrian gave his oldest friend a skeptical look. He picked up his wand, shined a light from the tip right in his friend's face, casting upon it a gentle glow brighter than the light from their only other light, which was a fire in the middle of their circle. With the light upon his face, everyone could see Marcus' grin, so they knew he was lying.

"Liar," one of them said.

"Muggle lover," another chimed in.

"Stephen King lover more like it," another said.

"Who's this Stephen King chap?" Draco asked. "He sounds like a sick, twisted sod. I think I might like him."

"Seriously, Malfoy, first the Beatles and now Stephen King," Blaise said with a chuckle.

"What does that mean?" Hermione asked.

"The other night when Theo was playing Beatles songs on his piano in his room, Malfoy didn't know who they were," Blaise explained.

"Like you knew," Draco blustered, throwing his pillow at his friend's head. Blaise kept it, placed it behind his back, and then he gave Draco a rude hand gesture in return.

Hermione looked at the man sitting next to him. "When were you playing Beatle songs on the piano? I didn't know you even knew who they were."

Theo looked slightly embarrassed and was thankful that they graveyard was dark and the fire was burning low. He crossed his legs out in front of him and said, "Hermione, didn't you say you had a scary story to tell us, right before Adrian started talking all that rot about _'all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy'_?" He quoted a line from Adrian's story and expelled a breath, hoping she would take his hint and change the subject.

He was pleased when she turned on her bedroll, (which was right next to his) and said, "Oh, yes, I have an absolutely terrifying story to tell all of you." She then began to tell an intricate story. As she talked, she was full of animation, using her arms for flare and her voice for full affect.

When she was done, Adrian and Marcus smiled. Draco and Blaise looked slightly confused, but where captivated, nonetheless. Theo however, looked at Hermione oddly and said, "Wait, I don't understand. So, the thing you kept referring to as merely _'It'_ was a clown to start with, but ended up as a spider? That's such a stupid story and IT isn't scary in the least."

"Oh yes, it's very scary, perhaps I've just forgotten some of it. I mean, think of it - A spider AND a _CLOWN_! Believe me, when Harry first read the book by Stephen King, and he told the story to Ron and I, and he got to the part where 'IT' was both a clown and a spider, it frightened both Ron and I so very badly!" Hermione squealed.

Blaise piped in, "Wait, so you're just relaying a novel to us, too. You aren't telling us a true story?"

Hermione laughed so hard she snorted. "Gads, no! You're so gullible! Did you really think I was telling you a true story about a giant spider that was a scary clown that killed little children? Granted, living in the world we live in, that doesn't sound too far off mark, but no, it's a book and it was also a movie, I believe, and it really was very scary."

"It's only scary to you, because you, sweetheart, and the weasel, are both scared little girls. Seriously, afraid of spiders and clowns," Draco said with a sneer.

Hermione whipped her wand out, sent a stinging hex at Draco, and said, "I've faced off Death Eaters over here, Malfoy! How's that for scary?"

"Aware of that, clown girl!" he said, rubbing his shin where her hex hit. "I know you're fearless and full of courage usually, so this clown thing has me perplexed. I need to get to the bottom of it somehow. Tell me, did your parents find you as a newborn in an overstuffed car? Oh, I just got it! It's the bushy hair! Your hair once looked like clown hair, back when we were in school! That's the connection!"

Hermione actually growled, pulled out her wand again, and leaned over Theo's body to get to the man, but Blaise held her back.

"Shove it, clown boy. Maybe she's scared of clowns because you used to remind her of one or something," Theo goaded to his friend sitting next to him, going so far as to place his hand over Draco's mouth, just as she had. Turning toward Hermione he said, "I don't care if it's a novel or not, it's still farfetched and doesn't make sense. I don't understand. Tell me again. Tell me the whole premise of the story again. There were these little kids, right?" Theo questioned.

Now Draco groaned, removing Theo's hand from his mouth. "I don't want to hear anymore of these Stephen King horror stories! For goodness sakes! We're in a graveyard that's full of dead witches and wizards who lived during the time of the Dark Lord! Now that's a horror story! We aren't supposed to be talking about books and things! We were supposed to be telling horror stories, and then Adrian tells one about a writer and his wife and their kid at an Inn. The poor prat goes bonkers and gets writer's block. Oh my, how horrifying!

"Then, Marcus, fucking, Flint, tells us one about little kids who take off on a trek in the woods, almost getting run over by a train, with leeches all over their body, and they have a pie eating contest, all because of a dead body! Now Granger tells us one about a killer giant spider, slash, clown and in the end, they're all really novels by a Muggle named Stephen King! Doesn't anyone have any imagination in this group? Can't anyone tell their own story, or at least tell a real one from our world?"

The other five stared at him after his outburst without saying a word. He shouted, "I could tell you stories about growing up at the Manor and living with Lucius Malfoy that would make all of you weep!"

"Oh yes, living in the lap of luxury must have been so hard. It must have been a horror not to get every little thing you ever wanted. How scary." Hermione leaned over Theo's body, placed her hand back on Draco's mouth and said, "But that's not the point. Where was I? Oh yes, well, let's start back at the beginning. There were these five little boys and this one little girl, and they were childhood friends, but there was always one thing different thing that scared each one of them…you know…IT. Wait, I'm not explaining this right."

"That's because you're partially pissed," Marcus suggested, handing her another Muggle beer. "Tell them the one about the killer car named Christine, or maybe the one with Cujo the dog."

She laughed again. "You might be right. I think I'm getting pissed, and I can't tell a good story when I'm pissed."

"You can't tell a good story when you're cold-stone sober," Draco mumbled under his breath.

"Bite me," Hermione leveled.

"Gladly, come on over here so I can," Draco 'bit' back.

She made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat and said, "Never mind about the story, but it was scary, believe me." Then she stuck her tongue out at Draco.

He winked at her and said, "Bring that tongue over here and maybe later we'll do something with it behind the grave of my dear departed great-granddad that involves it and biting."

"Yuck!" she exclaimed. "Now that would be scary." She shivered.

Adrian smiled at her and asked, "As scary as 'Redrum, redrum, redrum'?"

Hermione laughed, got up on her knees and said, "Hereeeeee'ssssss Johnnnnnnnyyyy."

The other wizards thought the two laughing at their own antics were a bit on the daft side. Finally, Adrian looked at the others and said, "I can't help it if I like Muggle pop culture horror films, namely anything to do with Stephen King movies."

"Hand me a beer," Blaise asked, laughing along with them. "I have a scary story I can tell you all, if you want to hear it, and it's not from a Stephen King novel, or a Stephen King movie, as it may. It's a true story, actually." He looked at Malfoy. "It's about vampires and werewolves."

"Yes, do tell us a scary story, Uncle Blaise," Marcus said in feigned anticipation. He placed his long legs out in front of him, leaned back against the gravestone behind him, opened a beer and waited.

Hermione stretched, and then lay down on her bedroll, her head on Theo's thigh. Theo was surprised at first, as were a few of the other fellows, but they all recovered quickly. Theo tried to act as if he was all right with her nonchalance, but he felt as if all the hairs on his body were standing on end. He couldn't relax if he wanted to. He wanted to stroke her hair, but instead he balled his fists tightly against his legs so he wouldn't be tempted to touch her in front of the others.

Blaise was on her other side, with Draco across from him. They exchanged a single look to say they noticed and approved, then Blaise began to talk; Draco fell on his back, his eyes gazing up to the dark sky above him. Adrian sat upright, watching out over his friends, every so often looking out around the graveyard, then up toward the swaying trees.

Blaise began…

"Well, there was this girl, named Isabella, but all her friends called her Bella. She was a lonely girl, didn't have many friends, mind you. She was awkward, just didn't feel right in her own skin. She always felt like something was different about her."

"Why?" Hermione asked.

"Because," Blaise answered, going forward, "One day, she had to leave her mother's home to go live with her father. He lived in a depressing little town called Forks. The whole town was dark and damp and cold, all the time, cold, really cold."

"Why? Why did she have to leave her mum?" Hermione asked again, with a yawn.

Theo smiled at her questions, and he finally let his hand come up easily to rest upon her shoulder. It moved down her arm, to her elbow, where he then took her hand into his. He hoped it was dark enough that the others wouldn't notice the gesture, but if they did, he couldn't help that.

Blaise ignore her second 'why', but he couldn't help but notice that Theo was holding her hand. He was pleased and jealous at the same time. He wanted THAT. He wanted to be able to show both of them how he felt – to be open and honest with his emotions and feelings, because what he felt for them was just as right was what everyone else felt. Instead, he continued with his story.

He talked about how the girl went to school, still feeling isolated, alone, withdrawn. Then suddenly, she met this boy named Edward. This boy acted aloof and indifferent to her at first. When Hermione started to ask 'Why' Theo reached over with his free hand and placed one finger on her lips. When she looked up into his hazel eyes and smiled, he smiled back and shook his head 'no'.

She didn't really want to know why. She was merely having fun with Blaise. Theo knew this as well, and he liked that she could be so mischievous, so full of life, so playful…_especially seeing that she was dying_.

Blaise continued telling his ridiculous 'horror' story of 'sparkling' vampires who could read minds and werewolves who wore a change of clothing on their legs, and while everyone listened, Theo watched. He watched Hermione Granger. The woman he knew he loved. The woman he knew was dying.

* * *

_A/N - Here's the thing - I know this is a shorter chapter, but I wasn't overly happy with it. I started re-writing it, and as I was editing it (for the fourth time) I realized that I didn't change this top part at all, so I decided to go ahead and send it to you as a separate little chapter. Do with it as you may. Love it, hate it, through it in the trash. At least I sent you one this week, huh?_


	26. Chapter 26 Eleanor Rigby

**All****characters****belong****to****JKR**

**Chapter 26 – Eleanor Rigby**

Theo looked down at Hermione as Blaise ended his silly story about teenage vampires and werewolves (which sounded like something a _teenage_ Muggle would write) and he wondered why everyone thought they could keep something as important as Hermione Granger's curse from him. Did they think he was so fragile that he couldn't handle the truth? The rest of them knew, (even though she didn't know that) but his friends were keeping the truth from him. He didn't like that. Not at all.

He dropped Hermione's hand, stroked her hair and closed his eyes for a moment. His friends thought he was weak. That's what it was. That's why they didn't tell him. It was because of what happened to him after Astoria died. They were protecting him. Or else they didn't trust him. One or the other.

Which wasn't fair. He wasn't the same person that he was back then. Just because he almost killed himself after Astoria died didn't mean he would do the same thing again. For one thing, Hermione wasn't the same person as Astoria. And her situation wasn't the same. For another thing, she didn't have a choice in this matter. She didn't want to die and Astoria did. According to Adrian, he had sent her on a mission, and now she was cursed to die by her birthday. Henceforth it wasn't anyone's fault. It was merely happenstance.

Unlike Astoria Greengrass. Astoria killed herself. And unlike Hermione's situation, where it wasn't anyone's fault – there was blatant culpability with Astoria's death. Yes, it was Theo's fault. If Theo had merely loved her more, taken better care of her, been a better person, or at the very least, gone to her at the end when she needed him the most, she would still be here.

Moreover, really, just because he became a bit unhinged after Astoria killed herself didn't mean he couldn't handle the truth of what was going down with Granger. For one thing, he didn't believe she was going to die. There had to be an anti-curse out there somewhere. Either Potter or Weasley would find it, or Adrian would.

Adrian. He was the only one who had faith in him. He explained everything about her curse to him just tonight, right before they left to come here. It was a shock, and he didn't have time to process it all or react clearly. If he had had the time, he might have cried, or something such shite.

Wait. No, he wouldn't. He forgot. He didn't do things like that any longer. He didn't cry. He didn't feel. Things were the same as they were when he was younger. Back then, he wasn't allowed to show his emotions and that was best, for showing emotions was what caused all the problems with Astoria.

But no. It wasn't. It wasn't what caused the problems with Astoria, and it wasn't for the best, because he still might cry for Hermione. He might cry this very moment. He found his breathing coming out in quick breaths, one after another. Dropping his hand from Hermione's head, he said, "Excuse me," and he lifted her head away from his thigh, stood, and walked away from the circle of friends.

NO! He wouldn't cry. Crying was for weaklings, and he wasn't weak! He hated that he couldn't contain his emotions. Containing his emotions was what he was taught to do. It was the one thing he and Malfoy had in common while growing up, although Draco at least had a mother who loved him. Hell, even Lucius loved him.

No one loved Theo while growing up. His mother and father merely tolerated him while he grew up. He was taught to be quiet and respectful. To be seen and not heard. Never to show sentiment, passion, fear or love. Now it was hard to show any feelings, right or wrong. He hated 'feeling' things, and he hated remembering how things felt, such as how he felt the day Astoria died.

Mostly he hated to think about how he was going to feel when Hermione Granger died, but that day was going to come, and he was going to handle it fine. He was. He would merely keep his feelings in check. He would keep them tightly inside, tied up in his heart, with an invisible cord, and then when she died he would refuse to feel anything. That way, he wouldn't cause his friends anguish the way he did the last time.

The last time…

Fuck. His entire body was clenching and he felt lightheaded. _He __was __going __to __die __when __Hermione __Granger __died. _Perhaps literally. He just knew it. He'd been in love with her long before she'd come to live with them, and he hadn't told a soul, and now it was too late. It was the same with Astoria, and he hardly felt a tenth for her what he felt for Hermione Granger.

What he felt for Astoria was distant, passionless, one-sided, awkward and sometimes painful. What he felt for Hermione was full of enthusiasm and sweet zeal, a new bright awakening, a need, a hunger, a thirst and a want.

Although, he was enamored with Astoria for as long as he could remember…all through school, all the while she was besotted (and betrothed) to Draco, and when he finally told her he loved her, and she declared her love in return, he was crushed to find out that she was merely playing a part. She lied. She wanted Draco Malfoy to notice her, become jealous.

Being the sick, pathetic fuck that he was, Theo still assumed he loved her even after she killed herself, although she did it in his own back garden. She blamed HIM for her death in her suicide note…blamed HIM for the fact that Draco didn't love her. Hell, he didn't need a bloody suicide note to point out his shortcomings…he lived with them every single day of his life.

Not that any of that mattered now. Sitting on a low gravestone, he began to rock back and forth. He didn't want to love her - Astoria, but he did, and his love killed her, which ultimately almost killed himself. He ignored that last haunting feeling that she needed him because the Vipers wouldn't leave his side - told him to ignore her games - that their relationship was over…through. While he was busy ignoring her, she was busy hanging herself from a low-lying branch while standing on a stone bench in his back garden.

Now he loved Hermione, she was dying, and he felt so lost and confused. He wanted his feelings to go away. He wanted to ignore this hurt in the center of his chest, but the more he tried to ignore it, the more intense the pain became. The harder he tried to force his feelings away, the harder they tried to climb to the surface. He tried with all his might to force all feelings back inside that invisible armor around his heart, but somehow certain sensations like empathy…want…need…would seep through. Why wouldn't they go away?

He could still hear Blaise speaking in the background, even as he heard Malfoy ask, "But why do the bloody vampires sparkle? Real vampires don't…wait a fucking minute. Is this another book, or a movie? I swear by all that's evil, if you're stringing me along, getting me all interested, especially in the whole romance between Edward and Bella, and this isn't even a true story, I'm going to slaughter you in your sleep!"

A roar of laughter rose across the dark span of space toward Theo, but he felt isolated by it. He felt choked by it. He stood up and started to run. He ran and ran and ran until he was out of breath. Until he couldn't move because his legs burned. He fell over a tree root, almost hitting his head on a marble headstone. Turning to his back, he looked up at the carved angel and fought back his tears.

He swore the angel looked down at him with disgust. He looked back up at it and said, "Yeah well, fuck you too, you stupid, angel."

Finally, he sat up beside the massive, white stone, only to feel a hand on his shoulder just a few moments later. "I wonder who Celesta Melbourne was?" he heard a familiar voice ask. It was Blaise.

Theo leaned back against his friend's legs. The warmth of his friend's body seeped into his, helped him to even out his breathing, cease his tears, fight back his demons. Rubbing his hands over his eyes, he asked, "Who?" He'd been crying and he hadn't even known it.

"The woman who's grave you're now sitting upon, my good man," Blaise answered. "This big white angel headstone belongs to Celesta Melbourne, born 1878, died 1912. She wasn't very old, was she? She's surrounded by Blacks, so she must have been related to Malfoy's mum. By the way, I guess we're playing a game now called headstone alphabet. We have to find a gravestone with a first or last name for each letter of the alphabet, in order, from A to good old Z, although we all agreed we could skip Z and X, although why we're not skipping Q is beyond my intellect. When we're finished, we're to meet back at the fire. You and I are on a team. Poor, Granger, who thought up the game, got saddled with Malfoy."

Theo just nodded.

Blaise kept his hand on Theo's shoulder, sensing that he needed a lifeline. "We can use Celesta as our C, but we need to stay honest and find an A and a B first. Granger said we may use first names or surnames and unbelievably, she trusts us not to cheat, can you imagine that? Ha! I say she really doesn't and that's why she picked Malfoy to be on her team. Here." Blaise handed Theo a piece of parchment. "You record the names on this. Just use your wand…and look, good old Celesta's buried next to 'Duncan Sylvester Black' born 1863, died 1923. That can be our 'D'. I wonder if they ever visit each other, you know, late at night, on the sly, when no one's looking."

Theo looked up at Blaise and said, "What?"

Blaise shrugged, knelt down, and said, "You're probably right. Duncan might be on my team. He might like visiting both Celesta AND Nathaniel Oscar Black over there, but I prefer to believe he's a straight arrow sort, don't you? I mean, he's buried near an angel!"

Theo laughed. "You're a sick fool."

Blaise ignored him and pointed toward another grave. "But you still love me, don't you? Now, we need an A and a B, before we write down these two names. Oh, look there - there's one that says 'Dorothea Antonia Rasmussen Black'. What a mouthful. She was married to Duncan, I think. I wonder if she knows about Duncan and Celesta. No matter. I think we can use her as our 'A'. It's on the stone, so it's good."

Theo stood up and said, "You'd better hope that they're not ghosts, and listening, or you're in trouble." He kept his hand on Blaise's shoulder.

"Not as much trouble as Duncan, I wager," he said with a smile. "Granger didn't say we couldn't use the same grave marker for the same letter, so let's use Dorothea Antonia for our B, too, since she was a 'Black' as well and go to a new section."

"How'd your story end?" Theo asked, rubbing his finger across his nose. Blaise stood up beside his friend.

"Oh, the werewolves bit the heads off all of the vampires and kill them in the end, then Bella died of a Venereal Disease. That sort of chaffed Malfoy, because I think he developed a bit of a thing for Edward. Something about the hair, but there you go," Blaise joked.

Theo said, "I thought he would have liked Jasper more, blond you know."

Blaise shrugged and they walked onward, only to stop when Theo said, "Oh, and by the way, you're right you know."

"About what? Duncan and Celesta or Draco and Edward?"

Theo turned to Blaise and leaned closer, placing his arms around his friend's body. "I do love you, you know."

* * *

_A/N__-__Short chapter because it was supposed to be at the end of the last chapter, however, I decided it was better as a stand alone chapter. I have Draco and Hermione's part of 'graveyard alphabet' and Adrian and Marcus' part already written and should have them back from the beta by Sunday or so, I would think. You should get a bit more of Astoria's story with each installment! Again, thanks for reading and reviewing, everyone! _


	27. Chapter 27 For the Benefit of Mr Kite

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 27 – For The Benefit of Mr. Kite**

In another part of the graveyard, Hermione and Draco were visiting a different section than Blaise and Theo. Draco purposely led her in a different direction when she suggested her silly game. She looked as if she wanted to argue, but then she acquiesced.

Almost too easily in Draco's opinion.

Truthfully, this Hermione Granger was an enigma to him. The Hermione Granger he'd known for 15 plus years wouldn't give up on life as easily as this Hermione Granger had appeared to do. The Granger he knew was a fighter. She was audacious, strong, opinionated, passionate, and above all, the bravest most courageous person he'd ever had the pleasure (or pain) to know.

She started to stumble over a rock on the ground, but he quickly caught her before she fell, his hand on her arm, reassuring, strong.

He wondered to himself - when had that happened? Here was the strongest woman, nay, no reason to mince words, the strongest PERSON he'd probably ever met in his entire life and he felt as if he had to reach out and steady her. Hold her. Help her. Be of benefit to her in some small way.

He'd spent his entire childhood (and most of his adult life) thinking up ways to make her life miserable, for no obvious reason except for the fact that it was 'what' he did best, and now all he wanted to do was to make the rest of her days happy. He'd never felt this way for a woman before, and before his mind went into romantic overload, he wasn't such a sap that he thought it was love. It wasn't romantic. It wasn't about pink and red hearts and little cherubs floating overhead with nappies on their bums.

This was about a woman whom he'd known as long as he'd known most of the Vipers. This was about easing her pain, if only to ease his guilty conscience for the fact that he had made her life miserable for all those years. This was about the redemption of Draco Malfoy, but beyond that, it was about being _for __the_ _benefit __of __Miss __Hermione __Granger_.

When Astoria Greengrass was sad and depressed he didn't give two sickles for the woman's feelings. He could have cared less, (well, in the obvious sense, he could have cared more) for her and her sadness. Her pain. Her obvious suffering. When she tried to use his best friend to make him jealous, he hardly showed a single, solitary emotion to either of them. He was his regular, selfish self. For Astoria, it was because he didn't care enough. For Theo, it was because he cared too much, and if he showed it, it would mean he was a walking empathy sponge.

And he was nobody's sponge. Hmm. Wait. That wasn't right. He meant that he'd never shown empathy before - wouldn't know it if EMPATHY came up and slapped him upside the head. Still, he kept his hand on Hermione's elbow as they walked through the warren of grave markers and he did it for her not for himself.

She turned back to him and smiled. "Thanks." Then she exhaled a shaky breath.

Something was bothering her beyond 'life and death'. Draco knew it as well as he knew he was a natural blond.

"Out with it, Granger old girl," he ordered, "Something's bothering you, and I should know. I made it my life's work when I was a lad to bother you every chance I got, and usually it didn't work. But once in a while, oh, it'd be so sweet. You'd get that wrinkled brow, you'd expelled a long and heavy breath like you just did, sometimes you'd chew an end of a quill to pieces, like you're doing with your bottom lip right now. Out with it."

"It's just, what's wrong with Theo? Do you think it's something I did? Do you imagine it's being here, because it makes him think of Astoria?" she asked as they walked along in the dark.

Draco shrugged, even if Hermione couldn't see. "Maybe Blaise's story scared him," he said flippantly. "I know it scared the shite out of me. Fucking werewolves. Edward should have just ripped Jacob's head off."

Hermione hid her smile. "You," she laughed, "you do realize that Blaise took that from a book, don't you? Actually, he took that book from me, not that I care, because I couldn't stomach it in the least. It was awful, and moronic, and it seemed as if it were written by a twelve year old without talent. It was about a weak girl who lived her life vicariously through her boyfriend, Edward, and I think it sent out the wrong message to young girls – oh, and to you, apparently."

"Do tell, Granger," he teased.

She laughed again and concluded, "It was about a girl who basically gave up on her own life, to live her life through her one, true love. She gave up everything that was important in her life, which defined her, such as her family, her best friend, even her very existence, all for a boy. Pathetic."

Draco smirked, and as she looked back at him with another smile, she saw the smirk and smiled even wider. "Oh, I see. Draco and Edward are in lovvvveeee…." Hermione began to sing.

"Actually, I liked Jasper better," he remarked with a straight face, "must be the hair. Let's get started on this game. I'm very competitive, even if you're not. I want to win." He handed her the piece of parchment and said, "There's an Ezekiel Montague. That's our Z." Draco began to walk away from her even as she called out, "STOP!"

"Hark!" he said, turning toward her, "do I hear the docile tones of screeching Granger? I thought they were extinct in these parts."

She ignored his insult. "We can't use that as our Z, since Ezekiel starts with an E and merely has a Z in it, and furthermore, did you not hear me explain the game?"

"Apparently not," he said, yawning. "Granger, my dear girl, isn't it obvious to you by now that I rarely ever listen to you when you ramble on about trivial thing?"

"You were just too busy dreaming of Edward," she said dryly. "Now stop the silliness. We have to find an A name first, Malfoy, and we all agreed that we don't even have to find an X or a Z! Maybe all you little pure-blooded wizards learned your alphabet backwards, and that's why you want to start with Z. Oh," she sighed, "to be so handsome but so dumb. What must it feel like?"

"You think I'm handsome?" he asked, winking at her. She smiled back at him as he continued, "And I know how to count, Granger." Hermione gave him the strangest look, he gave her one back, realized what he said, and then he laughed. "I mean, I know my alphabet. It's just, we can cheat, can't we. No one will know."

"I'll know, and besides, everyone else probably knows their E's from Z's." She rolled her eyes at him, not caring in the least if he saw her 'eye roll' or not.

He saw. Walking by her, he gave her a hard push, (which went against the fact that he steadied her early) and he watched as she staggered, stumbled, and almost fell. "You're no fun. It's either we cheat, or you go find yourself another partner."

She caught herself from falling by placing her hands on a large, white gravestone. She said, "I don't cheat, lie, steal, or maim, but I might make an exception on one of those four tonight, and just for you, if you push me again. Can you guess which one?"

"Lying?" he asked lazily, leaning against the same stone.

"I meant maiming, you fool," she corrected. More to herself, than to him, she said, "First he keeps me from falling, than he makes me fall. Such a Draco Malfoy thing to do." She sighed yet once more and then realized what he had said. "Wait. Why would you say that I was more likely to lie?"

He raised one eyebrow and gave her his best haughty stare. Even in the dark, he was certain she could see him. He said, "Because, my former little Mudblooded friend. You're lying right now."

She looked indignant as she shrieked, "HOW AM I LYING RIGHT NOW?"

"You're dying and you haven't told us yet." He crossed his arms and waited for her to reply.

She crossed her arms, mirroring his stance, was about to ask him how he knew, but then suddenly, her eyes flashed to the large white grave marker near where they stood. She brushed by him, leaned down, shined her wand light upon the name and whispered softly, "We've got our first name, Malfoy."

He leaned next to her, read the name quietly and then looked at her. Damn. It said '_**Astoria **__**Kathryn **__**Greengrass**__**'**_.

Draco placed his hand back on her elbow to usher her away from the gravestone, but Hermione planted her feet in the ground, pushed his body away from hers and said, "Please, tell me what happened to Astoria. I need to know."

He frowned, but gave her a curt nod. "Tit for tat, Granger dear. Will you tell me the full story about you?"

"Yes. I'll tell you everything."

Draco set his mouth in a firm line, grabbed her arm for the third time, and Disapparated her away. Shaking away the disoriented feeling that came over her, she asked, "Where are we?"

"Inside the Manor," was his clipped reply. "This was my childhood bedroom. To tell you the full story, one must start at the beginning."

Now Hermione frowned. She looked around what was apparently Draco's childhood bedroom, sat down on the large four-poster bed and waited.

.

Marcus and Adrian were in a different section of the old cemetery. "Write down Francis Tisdale for our 'F', Flint." Adrian pointed at a black marble marker, then started walking away.

"What was wrong with using my grandmother for our 'F'?" Marcus asked. "We passed her grave moments ago."

"Fine, put down Granny Flint, for all I care," Adrian said facetiously. "I didn't want to play this stupid game in the first place. I think we should all stay together."

"And you always get what you want, don't you?" Marcus said under his breath. "Anyway, you only want everyone to stay together because if they're away from you, you can't control what they're doing or saying. Right now, you're afraid of what's happening to Theo, and what Blaise might be doing to help him, because it might be something in which you don't approve. Likewise, you're afraid of what Malfoy might reveal to Granger."

Adrian turned back around to look at the other man. "What?"

Walking down a slippery slop full of bracken, undergrowth, and bushes, Marcus crossed a small stream, regardless of the darkness of the night, toward an older section of the old graveyard. A low, stone wall surrounded this section. He entered the section by pushing the rusted, wrought iron gate open. Ignoring his friend's question of 'what?' he went to search for more names. He didn't want to repeat himself, nor did he want to explain his response.

Adrian caught up to him and asked, "Is something bothering you, Flint?"

Marcus turned toward him. "Yes, fine, something's bothering me, Adrian. Why did you tell Theo about the little Gryffindor? We all agreed not to tell him! I know you told him."

Silence ensued, then Adrian asked, "How do you know I told him?"

"I didn't know until just now, you stupid wanker! You just told me with your response. Your Slytherin senses must be on hold tonight, because you're off kilter. Damn my black soul to hell and back, Pucey!" Marcus bent down at the waist, took a deep breath, and then sat down on the ground, his back against the old wall. "Why did you do that? What purpose did it serve? We all agreed not to tell him."

"When did we all agree not to tell him?" Adrian asked back, as a way of not answering his best friend's question. He sat down next to him, pulled on some weeds, and threw them up in the air.

"Oh, well, after you left, I guess. After Blaise told us about the cub, you left so quickly, and Theo was upstairs. The rest of us decided not to tell him. We didn't want to deal with the same things we had to deal with when Astoria died. We could all tell he's starting to fall for Granger," Marcus replied.

Adrian shook his head. "You're wrong, on so many levels. Theo's not starting to fall for her. He's fallen. Or rather, he fell, a long time ago. He had feelings for Granger long before Astoria even, but right now, that's unimportant. And he's an adult, and he has a right to know, just as you all did."

Marcus laughed, though he didn't find anything funny. "Yet you didn't tell us, did you?"

Adrian remained quiet.

Marcus stood up so suddenly that it shocked Adrian. "FUCK YOU!" Marcus cried. "You're dictating this whole thing! This is all playing out just as you planned! Every little bit of it! You wanted her to come live with Theo and Malfoy, and boom! She came to live with them! You wanted us all to find out she was dying, even though she didn't want anyone to know, and boom! We all find out she's dying, but not from you, my fine, dogmatic friend! Why, I wouldn't be a bit surprised if you didn't have her cursed in the first place as a way to bring her and Theo together or something!"

That accusation from his oldest friend shocked Adrian to his very core. He stood up, rushed toward Marcus, and pulled out his wand.

"What? Are you going to curse me now?" Marcus yelled.

"I might!" Adrian shouted back. "Why would you make such an assumption? You're crazy!"

"No, I finally have clarity about everything!" Marcus continued. "All of this is to assuage your guilty conscience about Astoria and Theo! Draco came to you when he was younger and said he didn't want to marry Astoria! What was your suggestion? Get someone else to take her off your hands, Malfoy! So he did! He started talking her up to Theo, and poor Theo, who had never known a mother or father's love, started to think how great it would be to have a pretty girl like Astoria for his very own!"

"Then when Astoria began to manipulate Theo's every waking day, every move he made, every breath he took, you told him…hey mate, she's using you, she's not good enough for you, don't you see that. You had the poor bastard so confused! He begged you to help him, so you went back to Malfoy and said, 'Look how pretty Astoria's gotten. She still has feelings for you, mate. Perhaps you should do something. She's making poor Theo miserable'.

"Well, he did something, didn't he? He started showing Astoria some attention after years of verbal abuse, which made Theo miserable enough that he finally broke up with her!"

Adrian turned away from Marcus' rant, but Marcus wouldn't have it. He took the other man's arm and turned him back. "Then when Malfoy remembered that he couldn't stand the stupid bint, he kicked her back to the curb. She tried to get back with Theo, but he wouldn't take her back either. So what did she do, Adrian? WHAT!"

"SHUT UP!" Adrian yelled back.

"TELL ME WHAT SHE DID!" Marcus took Adrian by the shoulders and shook him hard. "She killed herself. Not because she was the fragile, sad, despondent creature, that so many people made her out to be. Not because Malfoy or Theo broke her heart. Not even because of you! But because she was a selfish, manipulative bitch!

"I can't really blame that one on you, but I wish I could. Still, that night, the night she died, Theo had that little sixth sense he gets, that funny little feeling that he needed to go to her and YOU, Adrian, YOU made him ignore it."

Marcus pushed Adrian so hard that Adrian fell backwards, landing on the ground next to a dilapidated old, chipped headstone. Marcus pointed his finger at Adrian and with the same venom in his voice he said, "He wanted to check on her, but you told him not to be weak. You said, 'Stand up for yourself, Nott!' Then Malfoy started in on him, and I'm ashamed to admit, so did I. Finally, at least Blaise gave in and took him home and what did they find? They found the stupid girl, hung by a rope, in the man's own back garden."

Marcus fell down on his knees in front of Adrian, who by this time was crying. Taking a deep breath before he continue, Marcus said with less malice, "And then when Theo tried to kill himself afterwards, and damn it all to fucking hell, Adrian, we all know that's what he tried to do. We all deny that, but it's true, you forced Malfoy to move in with him to baby-sit him, and again, because it made you feel better to know someone was there with him at all times. You knew that I couldn't stand to be near Malfoy because of what went down with him and Daphne.

"You knew, you bastard, before the rest of us knew, that Blaise was in love with Theo and couldn't stand to see him in pain, and you also knew that Malfoy was dying inside, full of guilt, and you fed on that guilt."

"But, Adrian," Marcus went on, "What about your guilt? When will you admit to it? You can't keep manipulating all of our lives. You can't make this the Adrian Pucey show any longer. Things can't always go your way. I'm sorry, but they can't. You might not be able to save our little cub, but fucking hell, Adrian, if she dies, Theo will probably decide to feel again and it won't be pretty. When that happens, you can't rearrange all of our lives to heal him. You can't."

Adrian continued to cry, his head on his bent knees, his hands over his face.

Marcus wrapped an arm around him, held him, and said, "You're my best friend in the world, Adrian, and I love you, but you've got to stand and be accountable for your own sins."

"It hurts too much," Adrian admitted.

"Yeah, I know." Marcus rocked him back and forth, comforting him, and finally kissed the top of his head. With a heavy sigh, he said again, "I know."

Time passed, who knew how much, with Marcus holding Adrian, and Adrian crying for all the guilt he felt, all the lies he had told, and for all the lives that had been changed.

Finally, Marcus spoke. "Hey, something good might have come out of this little incident, Pucey. Look up."

Adrian did. Then he laughed. "Shite. No one will fucking believe us."

"To hell with them if they don't, but I think we just won the game." Marcus reached for the piece of parchment, handed it to Adrian and said, "I always heard that one of Malfoy's distant relatives had 22 children and their names started with A and ended with V, but I never believed it until now. We found their little family plot! Now start writing."

* * *

_A/N This chapter was written, then rewritten, and then written again so many times that I felt like my head was going to explode. I know it seems as if this story is 'Viper' heavy, (and on a Granger centric site) but I'm happy with the outcome. Still, I still feel a bit anxious…BECAUSE – I don't want everyone to feel as if I'm carrying this out too long needlessly. The thing is, I'm doing this one the way I want (need?) to do it, so I hope you stay with me, but if not, then thank you just the same._

_The next chapter is going to be a chapter with a series of flashbacks, as a way to tell everyone Astoria's story, then I promise we'll get back to 'the list'. Also, the long awaited 'love scene' between Malfoy and Hermione (for all you Dramione fans) will finally take place. It will not take away from the fact, however, that she's in love with Theo._

_Also, I want to give everyone another THANK YOU! For all the support of this story. We're at the midway point, so it's down hill from here, and whether you only read and never review, or always read and always review, I appreciate it all._


	28. Chapter 28 Fixing a Hole

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 28 – Fixing a Hole**

"You might as well get comfortable," Draco suggested, "This might take awhile."

Hermione kicked off her shoes, removed her old, brown, comfortable jumper, and moved to the head of the bed. Crossing her legs, she placed the sweater over her lap. Only then did she say, "Fine, I'm comfortable. Tell me about Astoria and Theo."

"Now I'm not comfortable. I can't talk to you with that brown, ugly, hideous thing on my childhood bed. Put it on the floor and I'll talk."

Hermione gave him a heated glance and said, "I've bet there's been all sorts of ugly and hideous things on your childhood bed." Still, she took her favourite jumper and draped it over the back of the headboard.

Draco paced beside the bed…back and forth, back and forth, several times. Hermione leaned over, looked at the beautiful rug on the floor, and said, "You're bound to wear a hole in the carpet. Come," patting the space beside her on the bed, "the ugly jumper won't hurt you. Come sit down and start talking. You like to talk. Talking is one of your fortes."

Turning, he raised an eyebrow, looked at the place on the bed next to her and said, "I only truly enjoy it when I'm talking about me, and it's second only to my best known talent, and it usually takes place on a bed, too."

Hermione didn't smile or encourage him. Instead, she decided to wait. And wait. And wait.

Finally, he walked over to a large chest of drawers, pulled open the top drawer, and removed a brown, wooden box. Placing it on the table beside the bed, he sat down on the edge next to her legs. After a moment he said, "We were never friends."

She waited for him to say more, but that was all he said. An innocuous enough statement, but she didn't know to whom he was referring. Did he mean he was never friends with Astoria, because of that, she was already certain? Did he mean he wasn't friends with Theo, because she found that hard to comprehend? She frowned.

"Do you mean you and me?" she had the forethought to ask.

Placing both hands in his lap, he replied, "Yes, I mean you and me. We were never friends, dear, dear Granger."

She looked at his hands, bound together so tightly in his lap. She started to remember how much they despised each other in school. Remembering it all was like taking a swift kick in the chest. It hurt to remember how much he hated her, and for no reason at all other than that she was a Muggle-born.

"Of course we weren't friends," she agreed. "You were taught to hate me, or people like me, from the time you were in your nappies. You thought I was inferior, didn't deserve my magic, that I was a blight to the whole wide wizarding world."

Placing a hand on her knee, he gave it a slight squeeze before saying, "Maybe not THE WHOLE wide, wizarding world, but at least in Great Britain." He smiled and so did she.

"Listen, Malfoy, that type of hate is inbred, but you overcame it, didn't you, and you were young, so I understand. It's all in the past. What does this have to do with Astoria and Theo?"

Draco climbed over Hermione's legs to sit beside her as she first indicated. After kicking off his own shoes and letting them drop to the floor with a thud, he removed his jacket, threw it with the shoes, reached over her body for her jumper, balled it tightly in his hand, and threw it on the floor with his pile. Only then, did he say, "Theo fancied you from first year on. Did you know that?"

She could only shake her head numbly. This was news to her. "He told you that?"

Draco made a small, slight affirmative nod with his head. "He didn't tell anyone for a long time, because of who you were, what you were, and who we all were." Looking deeply into her brown eyes he said, "You have to know it's in the past."

"Theo liking me is in the past?" she asked, confused, weary, tired.

Draco bounded from the bed and began to walk around the massive room again. He confirmed, "No, I think Theo's in love with you now. What I meant was anything I have to tell you is all in the past, alright?"

"Draco, please," she begging, getting up on her knees on the bed. She opened her arms and said, "Come back here, sit down, and get on with it."

Sitting back on the edge again, but this time at the end of the bed, he faced her. "When Theo finally admitted that he had a crush on you, he told Blaise first. Blaise wasn't raised as a Death Eater's son, so he wasn't biased as the rest of us. Blaise kept it quiet. But I finally found out anyway, and made a big blow up of the news."

Draco stood again, as if he merely couldn't stand still. "I told half of the Slytherins, one night in our common room, oh…third year I believe, that Theo Nott liked Hermione Granger. Stupid thing was, probably half the boys in our dungeons felt that way, yet everyone took the mickey out him for the longest time because of that. Some of the older boys were even cruel to him. Finally, Marcus and Adrian got involved and made everyone leave him alone."

He moved to the opposite side of the bed, climbed back up and sat beside her. Taking her hand, he continued. "Somehow, Theo's father found out, and I swear, it wasn't from me."

Hermione looked down at their entwined hands. His hands were so large next to hers. She waited again and he said, "When Theo went home for summer holiday, his father punished him for it."

Hermione immediately removed her hand from his. "He was punished for a childhood infatuation?"

"On a Mudblood, Granger. The best friend of Harry Potter," Draco justified.

"How was he punished?" She was almost afraid to ask.

"As he always was growing up. He was beaten. Severely. His father believed in corporeal punishment, and Theo was beaten from the time he was a child until his father died during the war. But that time, well, it was worst time. In fact, when Marcus went to his house to check on him, he said that Theo was beaten black and blue."

"Because of me?" she asked with a whisper.

"Gads, no, Granger," Draco said, frustrated. "Because of me! Because I told everyone! I knew what his parents were like! His father was a cold, mean bastard who beat Theo into submission from the time he could walk. His mother wasn't much better. I don't remember Mrs. Nott ever hugging Theo, or talking kindly about him. He was a nonentity in that house, and we all knew it, and I made it worse for him."

"His parents are dead now, right?" she asked cautiously.

"Dead and buried and in the pits of hell, no doubt," Draco hissed. "And before you ask me what all of this has to do with Theo and Astoria, I just wanted you to know that. Okay?" Climbing off the bed for the third time, he went over to a closed door, (she assumed it was a closet) and came back out with a round, stone, shallow bowl.

"A Pensieve?" she asked.

"This will be easier, for me and for you," he explained. The shallow, clear liquid sloshed around the large bowl, but it never spilled from its vessel. He placed the heavy, magical item on the bed between them, before he sat back down.

"These are rare, you know?" she mumbled, dipping her finger in the icy, clear liquid quickly.

He shrugged. "I got it for my twelfth birthday. I wanted a new broom, but this served its purpose after a while."

She hit him hard on the arm at his flippant attitude. "You got a very rare, magical antiquity for your twelfth birthday!"

"Yes, why?" He smiled at her, because she looked so pretty when she was exasperated and riled.

"Malfoy!" she expelled, sitting up on her knees. "These things are priceless!"

"Everything has a price, Granger dear," he leveled. "Nothing's priceless to a Malfoy."

"What did you get for your tenth birthday, a dragon?" she asked sarcastically.

He looked upwards, as if he were trying to remember, and said, "The dragon was for the ninth. I got my own House Elf for my tenth."

She narrowed her gaze, hit him again, and said, "You're hopeless."

With his resident smirk firmly on his face, he gleamed, "Why? What did you get for your twelfth birthday?"

"Probably a book, but that's beside the point," she barked.

He laughed. "I was going to say a book, as a joke, but you stole the punch-line right out from under me, Granger." He laughed some more and then said, "Reach behind you for that box."

She hit him once more, just because she wanted to, and then turned slightly on the bed for the box he'd placed there earlier. Opening it before he could, she saw that it was filled with many different size vials, each one labeled.

He reached inside, took out a vial, and emptied it into the stone bowl. Then he gestured with his hand and said, "After you, sweetheart."

Hermione took a deep breath and dunk her head in the water. The memory she saw was of Draco, on this very bed, with a girl, and they were…Oh. My. Stars! Hermione snapped her head up and said, "That's akin to pornography, Malfoy! I don't want to see that!"

He looked at the vial in his hand, laughed, and said, "Oh, excuse me, wrong vial." He winked at her and she knew he'd done it on purpose, probably to lighten the mood, or to make her laugh before she looked at the true memories.

Still, she felt inclined to hit him once more, harder, with true meaning, first with her right hand then with her left. Draco groaned, and then took her left hand in his. "Ouch, Granger, I bruise easily, so take care." Keeping her hand in his, he added, "I'm not the same, you know, as I was in school. I don't hate you anymore."

"Oh, Draco, I know that." She pulled her hand away and sighed. "Let's get this over and done, so we can join the others."

While he rifled through the box for the 'real' memories, Hermione asked him, "That woman, from the last memory, she looked familiar. Who was it?"

He gave her an evil (in her opinion) grin and said, "It was supposed to look like you. It wasn't really a memory. It was a joke, or rather, more like a – 'what will be' scenario. I concocted it from a fantasy of mine."

"You sick bastard," she proclaimed. She took the vial with the first memory and placed it on the bedside table, away from him. "I'll take that with me, thank you very much!"

"Fine, I have more," he teased. He found the right vial in a matter of seconds, uncorked the top, and placed the white, wispy smoke of his memories into the water. The liquid on the top of the Pensieve swirled.

Giving him one last look, she dipped her head and waited.

_._

_Draco was flying higher than ever on his new broom. He got it from his parents as a present. There wasn't a special occasion. Draco didn't need a special occasion to get a present. Still, as he skimmed the treetops, he thought of how lucky they all were…the war with the Dark Lord was over, Potter defeated him. _

_Also, Draco's father didn't have to serve any prison time because he supplied names of Voldemort's supporters to the Ministry in exchange for leniency. His mother was also given leniency when it was found out that she helped Potter at the end. Plus, his evil aunt was dead._

_Overjoyed, Draco dipped down along the high branches of the trees around the Manor, and then landed with a thump. His friends, Theo and Blaise, ran over to him, excited, laughing._

"_My turn," Theo said, edging Blaise away with his shoulder. Taking the nimble instrument into his grasp, he kicked off and flew high, away from the others._

_Blaise said to Draco, "Why did your parents have to invite Astoria and her parents here?"_

_Draco sneered, "I don't know. I was just thinking that almost everything was perfect, save for that. I hate that girl. For one thing, she's still in school, so she's too young for me. If they seriously think I'm going to marry her because of a stupid betrothal contract signed by my father when I was a baby, well, they've got another think coming!"_

"_She's headed this way," Blaise warned, running the other direction._

_Draco tried to rush away, but the younger girl caught his arm. Turning to her, he conceded that she was pretty enough – long dark hair, hazel eyes, dark completion. Still, he couldn't stand her. She was vain, supercilious, and could be downright cruel to other people, especially her own sister, who was actually a sort of a sweet girl._

"_Where are you going, Draco?" Astoria asked._

_Jerking his arm from her hand, he said, "I'm going to the toilet, do you mind?"_

"_Oh," she said. "It's just that you haven't spent very much time with me since I've arrived."_

"_Why would I?" he asked._

"_Because our parents are watching, you silly thing," she said, smiling._

_Draco sighed with vexation. "Listen, Astoria, I don't even like you, so go away, 'right?" He turned to leave again when she said, "You better be nice to me."_

_Draco smirked and said, "And why would I want to be nice to you? I hate you."_

"_If you aren't nice to me, I'll do something drastic," she said calmly, folding her arms across her chest. She looked up in the sky, at Theo. "He's good on the broom, isn't he?"_

"_What of it?" Draco barked._

"_I bet he wouldn't be able to sit very well on that broom if his mother found out that he was going to go to the dedication ceremony at Hogwarts, along with Blaise and Marcus Flint. His father may be dead, but his mother can be just as evil, or so I've heard._

_Draco's nostrils flared with anger. "Shut up, Greengrass. If you mention Theo within my hearing again, I'll make you pay!"_

_She smiled. "My sister told me all about how he was beaten close to death once, because he developed feeling for the Mudblood, Hermione Granger. She said he was going to go there this weekend just because the stupid Mudblood was going to be there. How sickening. Is he going to profess his undying love to her?" She giggled._

_Draco took her arm in his hand this time, squeezing hard, and pulled her away from the crowd. "That's supposed to be a secret! We're all going, but he was going to tell his mother he's spending the weekend here, with me."_

"_But that would be a lie, wouldn't it?" she said with a singsong voice. "I know his father died in the war, but I hear his mother can mete out punishment almost as bad as the father. I bet she would hate the fact that her only son is lying to her. I bet your father wouldn't like it, either."_

_Draco wanted to explode. "What's it to you what Theo Nott does or doesn't do?"_

_She shrugged. "I wouldn't want him to get punished, like he did when you were all young and his father found out about his feelings for the Mudblood, Hermione Granger, that's all." She smiled._

_He winced. "You weren't even in school yet, when that happened. How do you even know about it?"_

"_I heard about it from my sister. I wonder who told his parents? No matter, it's just that I worry for him," she lied. Draco knew she was lying because he was the best liar he knew, therefore, he could recognize a lie when he saw it. _

"_Why is Theo so suddenly important to you?" Draco asked cautiously. If he ever found out that she blabbed about the fact that Theo had a fancy for Granger, he would kill the girl on the spot._

_Again, a shrug, and passively she said, "If I can't have you, I'll take him instead, that's all. He's handsome, smart and very rich, and I don't care if he's beaten once in a while. Think about it, Draco." _

_She walked away and Draco followed her with his eyes until she walked up to Theo's mother. He growled low in his chest. Blaise walked up to Draco and asked, "What did the wicked witch want?"_

_Another growl, then he said, "Me."_

_._

Hermione raised her head. "Is she the one that told Theo's parents about his feelings toward me?"

"Who knows," Draco responded. "She wouldn't even have been in school yet, but she might have heard of it from Daphne. Daphne and Marcus have been together since Hogwarts."

"That memory made me see that she was a spoiled, self-serving little brat, but then again, Draco, so were you. How is this relevant?"

He uncorked another memory and pushed on the back of her head. "Watch and see, Granger dear."

.

_Theo was already at the pub when Adrian and Draco arrived. They were supposed to be celebrating Blaise Zabini's birthday, but the man in question was no where to be seen. Sitting in the booth beside Theo, Draco asked, "Where's the birthday boy?"_

_Theo merely shrugged. _

_Draco let out an annoyed sound and said, "What's wrong now?"_

_Theo crossed his arms and said, "Nothing, Malfoy." He frowned and looked out the window._

"_I bet I know," Draco continued. "You're still angry that I had a fling with your girlfriend, even though she'd broken off with you before it occurred! Or else, it makes you sick that you're back together with her. I know it makes me sick."_

_Theo flicked a rude hand gesture Draco's way. Draco wasn't finished. "Your little woman didn't want you to come out with us tonight, because she's against you having fun…or a life…or friends…or happiness."_

"_Sod off, Malfoy," Theo snarled. _

"_If you're going to be this type of company, you might as well go back to her. Don't ruin Blaise's birthday!" Draco complained._

"_What's really wrong, Theo?" Adrian asked._

"_Well, you know after my mother died, I told our family's solicitor that I wanted him to sell all of our estate, including the mansion, all their possessions, everything, because I couldn't see myself ever wanting to live there. I want to buy that townhouse from Blaise's last stepfather. Or was it the stepfather before the last one. Anyway, the place is in Muggle London, but it's just what I need."_

_Draco knew exactly what Theo meant. He meant he needed to get out of the crushing, confining, suffocating presence of anything to do with his parents, his former home, everything._

"_And?" Draco said, making a motion with his hand, "There has to be more than that."_

"_Astoria said if I sell my family's estate, she'll leave me for good this time. She doesn't want to live in a tiny little townhouse in Muggle London."_

"_Tiny?" Adrian laughed. "That place must have fifteen rooms!"  
_

_Theo slumped in his seat. Draco said, "She's a spoiled, conniving bitch."_

"_Stop it," Theo harked. "I hate when you speak of her like that. I don't allow her to speak about you that way, because I love you, I love you both."_

"_WHY?" Draco asked. "I mean, sure, love me, I'm a right lovable bloke, but she's cruel, mean, vindictive, only wants you for your money and your pureblood. She breaks up with you every other week and do you even realize how many times she's come to me and told me…" He stopped._

_Blaise walked up, sat down and asked, "How many times who came to you and told you what, Malfoy? What are we talking about, gents? Are we talking about my birthday?" He clapped his hands together._

_Theo pushed Draco out of the booth and stood to leave. "No, I think Malfoy was telling me that someone was still in love with him!"_

_Marcus walked up at that moment and said, "Malfoy thinks everyone's in love with him…who is it now, Malfoy? Penelope Clearwater? Nicole Holt?"_

"_Astoria," Theo supplied the answer and stalked away. Blaise quickly followed him. Marcus sat down in their steed and said, "Well hell, anyone could have told you that."_

_._

Hermione lifted her head again. Without the fortifying breath she took to steady her breathing, she might have started crying. "I think I'm beginning to get the point, and I don't need to see anymore memories. She was a mean spirited woman. How could she not know that his childhood home held bad memories for him?"

Draco said, "Well, not to give her any credit, but it was a mansion, and he was moving to a much smaller home."

"The townhouse is enormous, and I love it there!" she argued.

"Yeah, sure, I do too, now…but, you know, it's small compared to say, this house." He held out his hands.

"Windsor Castle is small compared to this house," she waned.

"Where's that?" he joked.

"Seriously, Malfoy, you probably don't even know how many rooms The Manor has, do you?" she asked.

He glanced up, back to her, and said, "You're right. I don't know. Probably a couple of hundred, give or take a few."

"A COUPLE OF HUNDRED?" Hermione gasped.

Draco laughed and said, "Calm down, calm down, I'm including the servant's rooms and the dungeons in that count. Granted, Theo's house wasn't this big growing up, but it was rather large, and I guess she thought if she couldn't have The Manor someday, she at least wanted the Nott estate."

Hermione shook her head. "A round a hundred rooms."

He pushed her slightly. "Probably more. How many rooms did you have growing up?"

Hermione thought of her parents' comfortable Tudor and said, "Twelve, I think. Yes, Twelve."

Draco frowned, pulled her to him, and with an exaggerated hug, he patted her shoulder and said, "You poor little thing. I didn't know you grew up impoverished."

She pushed away from him and said, "Stop with the games and show me how it ended. I have to know it all."

Taking another vial from the box, he placed the misty, swirling memory into the Pensieve and waited.

She took another deep, fortifying breath, and placed her face in the water.

.

"_He finally did it!" Draco said again, raising his glass to Theo. They were in Marcus' large house, just the Vipers, no one else, having a small, congratulatory salute to Theo who had just broken all ties to Astoria._

_Nevertheless, the man in question was sitting in the corner of the den, looking positively glum. _

"_We're so proud of our boy," Adrian agreed, lighting a cigar. "In light of this news, we should go celebrate somewhere." Turning toward Theo, he questioned, "Where would you like to go, Theo?"_

"_Home," he said. Standing quickly, he said, "I feel strange. I know she probably isn't there, but I have to go check my house. I have a funny feeling that she's back there, and that she needs me."_

_Blaise smiled at Draco. They had placed extensive wards around the house so she couldn't enter, unbeknownst to their friend. The closest she could get to the place would be the back garden. Winking at Malfoy, Blaise said, "No way, Theo. She hated that house and refused even to move with you when you bought it last year. She barely ever even stayed the night. Come on, Vipers. Let's go to my club."_

_They all stood, save for Theo, who sat back down in his seat. "No. I really feel as if she needs me."  
_

_They all groaned and moaned. "I can't stand to see you like this!" Marcus shouted._

"_Yeah, damn embarrassing, Nott! Did the woman take your bollocks with her when you made her leave?" Draco asked._

"_Fuck you, Malfoy," Theo said softly. "Fuck all of this, all of you, everything. I know what she's like. I know we're poisonous together, but if she needs me, if she's hurting, or in pain, I have to know. I can't leave it like this."_

"_Yep," Adrian said, "she took his bollocks. Be a man and sit down, Nott."_

"_As previously stated to Malfoy, sod off," Theo warned. He turned to Blaise and asked, "Will you go with me? I don't want to face her alone, only because she'll try to convince me to take her back, and I can't do that again. But I have a funny feeling something's terribly wrong."_

.

The memory ended there. Hermione pushed the heavy Pensieve from her and said, "Tell me the rest, Malfoy."

He took the Pensieve and the memories from the bed, placed them back where they belonged, and then he climbed back beside her. "You know the rest, or have pieced it together. He went to his house having a feeling she 'needed' him. When he got there he searched for her everywhere. He didn't know that Blaise and I had set up wards, keeping her out of the house."

Hermione gasped. "The back garden? Is that where she…killed herself? Is that why he's reluctant to go back there…why it's overgrown and avoided."

Taking a deep breath, Draco responded with nod and a simple, "Yes."

Hermione lay down on her side, her head on the mound of pillows behind her. Draco did the same. Facing each other, they reached across the bed at the same time, seeking the other's hand.

"How?"

"She had to go out with flare, that's Astoria. Dramatic to the bloody, fucking end. She hung herself from a tree, good old fashioned-Muggle style. He found her swinging back and forth. He found her while Blaise was still inside the house. It was too late."

"Did she leave a note telling why she did it?" Hermione asked, feeling slightly awkward with her morbid questions.

"She blamed him. There were all sorts of reasons, but she also said she still loved me and always would," Draco admitted.

"Wasn't there a time when he broke up with her and you and she got together? I seem to recall that," Hermione urged. "And you mentioned something about it in your memories."

Draco turned to his back, swung a hand over his eyes, and said, "If I tell you something, will you please believe me."

Placing a hand on his chest, she said, "Of course. Go on."

He turned back to look at her and said, "Yes, right before they broke up for the last time, I had a brief fling with her. I did it only because I wanted him to break up with her forever, because she was like a poison to him. I thought, he'll get over her, and since I can't stand her, I'll take her on for a while, then break her heart, the way she broke our boy's heart. The thing was, when I broke up with her, she crawled back to Theo and he took her back again."

Hermione sat up. "But he doesn't seem insecure to me! And he's certainly not pathetic! Why would he put up with her abuse? Why would he keep taking her back, even when he knew she didn't love him?"

"Remember what you said when we started this conversation," he reminded her, sitting up as well. "It was inbred in Theo from his childhood on that he wasn't good enough, wasn't smart enough, wasn't handsome enough. He was taught to take any and all abuse, and he mistook that abuse for love. It's the same thing as my inbred hatred of Mudbloods, Granger. Don't judge him so harshly."

"Oh, no, I'm not, truly, truly, I'm not," she pleaded. "I can understand that. Still, it makes me angry, because he has so much to offer. He's smart, very handsome, introverted, sure, but sensitive and kind. Talented. I remember after he broke up with her one time, he was at a party that I went to, and I tried to get Adrian to re-introduce us, but Adrian said it wasn't the right time, whatever that meant."

"Yeah, I recall that party. It was the Christmas party before Astoria died. They had just broken up, and I was having my 'fake little relationship' with her." Draco smiled. "I wish you had plucked up your Gryffindor courage that day and introduced yourself to him. He would have recalled being enamored of you when he was young, and maybe he wouldn't have gone back to her."

Hermione stuck out her bottom lip and asked, "Do you think all of this is my fault?"

"What? You're barking mad," he accused. "It's no one's fault. Things happen when and how they're supposed to happen. End of story."

Hermione wasn't so sure, but she didn't need the added guilt of feeling as if she were the cause of Astoria's sad story. "What happened to Theo after she died? I remember something happened to him…Adrian said something about it at the time, but I can't recall."

"I said end of story, on all accounts," Draco frowned. "If you want more, talk to someone else. Now, tell me about you."

"You seem to know it already, so why should I say anymore?" she asked with spite. "Especially since I only get the abridged version of Theo's story."

"Fine, don't talk about it, but I'm going to give you my opinion anyway. I think you're giving up way too easily, Granger," Draco said with a sneer. "That's not the Granger I loved to hate when I was a lad. That Granger wouldn't merely roll over and die."

Hermione looked as if she had been struck by his comment. Her eyes opened wide, and then she said, "What more shall I do, but commence with my living while I can, Malfoy?"

She moved to place her feet on the floor, but stopped. He reached for her, touching her shoulder. He said, "I won't apologize, because you know I'm right. You're brave and courageous and if anyone should have a crack at living a full, happy life, it should be you. It's sad that you were cursed, but bloody hell, Granger, it's not sad that you're dying."

Hermione looked over her shoulder at him, mouth wide, eyes wider. "WHAT?"

He climbed beside her and said, "It's sad when little kids get cancer. That's unfair. There's no reason for it. They can't help it, did nothing to deserve it, yet they fight to live. It's unfair when a father, only thirty years old, has a heart attack and leaves his family behind. It's sad when a mother gets killed by a drunk driver on her way to the market."

He struggled to find the right words, though Hermione wasn't going to wait. She tried to stand, reaching for her brown jumper on the floor at their feet at the same time. He pulled her back so hard that they both fell on the bed, her on top of him, him underneath. Looking up at her, he verified, "They can't do anything about dying, but you can. You can." He smoothed back her hair and said, "You already love Theo. There's someone else who's in love with him, too. There's an answer to your curse. Adrian told me."

Tears sprang to her eyes so quickly it jolted them both. She placed her head on his chest, grabbed the front of his shirt, and said, "I don't want to die, Draco. I don't want to die."


	29. Chapter 29 This Boy

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 29 - This Boy**

* * *

_**This boy, took my love away,**_

_**Oh he'll regret it someday,**_

_**But this boy wants you back again**_

_**That boy, isn't good for you,**_

_**Though he may want you too,**_

_**This boy wants you back again,**_

_**Oh and this boy, would be happy,**_

_**Just to love you,**_

_**And oh, my, that boy, won't be happy,**_

_**Till, he sees you cry…**_

_**J. Lennon & P. McCartney**_

* * *

Hermione Granger didn't want to die. She was tired of pretending that she had accepted her fate, because she hadn't. She didn't want to die, she wanted to live, she wanted to love, she wanted to fight, but she was so very tired of it all.

Tears sprang to her eyes so quickly it jolted them both. She placed her head on Draco's chest, grabbed the front of his shirt, and said, "I don't want to die, Draco. I don't want to die."

"You don't have to die," Draco whispered into her hair, her body on top of his, his hand brushing up and down her back as she lay on top of him. "I know Adrian told you that he thinks he's found the cure. I know it'll work. You already love Theo. I love Theo." He left the rest hanging in the air, as he kissed the side of her face, her temple, her forehead.

Hoisting herself up to look down at him, a teardrop rolled off her cheek and splashed onto Draco's face, near his left eye. She gave him a sad smile and said, "If that counter-curse works, which we don't know if it will, it doesn't work like you think it does. Believe me; I've already tried that with Harry and Ron."

He couldn't contain the look of disgust that graced his features, rolling over so they were staring at each other on their sides. Brushing her hair away from her face he said, "No, of course that wouldn't have worked. You only think of them as friends. But answer me this, are you falling in love with Theo, yes or no?"

"Oh, Draco," she answered instead, closing her eyes.

"Granger, open your eyes and look at me."

She did, but she didn't answer. She didn't have to, because the answer was there in her eyes.

"I love him, too. It'll work," he assured.

Smiling, she placed a hand on his cheek and said, "Are you that desperate to sleep with me?"

Grinning in return he answered, "Yes, I think I am, but that's beside the point."

"Malfoy," she moaned, closing her eyes again so that she could carefully compose the next thing she wanted to say in her head. Opening her eyes, she said, "You aren't in love with Theo. You love him like a brother, a best friend. And you aren't in love with me."

Suddenly, the Draco from her past, her childhood, surfaced, with the same surly look upon his face. Grabbing her hands in both of his he said tersely, "Kindly don't tell me what I do and do not feel, Granger. It's unbecoming to both of us."

"So you're bisexual now?" she asked seriously.

"What does that have to do with anything?" he demanded, pushing her hands away from him, sitting up in the middle of the bed.

Instead of answering, she rolled over to her side and said, "See. It would never work. Thank you for thinking of me, though. I'm sure I'll find another way." Willing herself to breath in and out, so she could stop all forms of tears, she felt him settle in behind her, then she felt a cover being pulled over them both.

"Don't fret on it now," he said softly in her ear. "Just go to sleep."

"But the others…?"

"The others will never know we've spent the night in a soft bed. We'll go back down to the graveyard at first light. Close your eyes." He pulled her up against him, wrapped his arm around her, and closed his eyes, even if he knew he wasn't about to go to sleep. His body was rock hard, tense with wanting, worrying, anticipation, and fear.

How dare she tell him what he felt and what he didn't feel? His hand drifted down her arm, to her hand. Holding her hand in his, he looked at it in the dim light of his large childhood bedroom. He did love her in his own way. She was one of the few major constants in his life. He didn't have many of those. There were his parents, his friends, and unbelievably, her and her stupid sidekicks.

And he didn't hate any of them any longer, especially her. Was he in love with her? No. He would never – COULD NEVER – love anyone, (except perhaps himself) but that didn't mean he wouldn't be good to her.

But she had a point. He wasn't _in love_ with Theo, though he suspected that one person in their group was. One person in their group had been for a very long time. With that thought, Draco drifted off to sleep.

.

Theo and Blaise stopped playing the game around three in the morning. They had found all their names, silently, without even speaking to the other. One would find a name and write it on the list then the other would find a name and write it on the list. When they were done, they went back to their small fireside campground to find that it was abandoned.

Neither said a word as they lay down on their bedrolls and pretended to go to sleep. Neither asked the other where they supposed Granger and the other Vipers had gone. Neither made a big to-do about the fact that one of them was crying before and the other comforted him. It had happened before and would probably happen again.

"Hey, Blaise," Theo finally said.

"Hmm?"

"Are you asleep?"

"Yes."

A chuckle. "Really? You're asleep?"

"Yes, I really am. I always answer asinine questions in my sleep."

"Okay. Just wanted to be certain."

Quiet.

More quiet.

"Did you want something, Theo?"

"Yeah. Thank you, for before." Pause. "Actually, thank you for many times. You've been a good friend throughout my life."

"And you've to me." Turning to his side, Blaise peered over at Theo. Theo was already staring at Blaise. "You know, what I said back there was true."

"You say so much, so you'll have to clarify," Theo joked.

Blaise sat up. "Wait a second. Let's record this moment for posterity. Did 'Serious Theo' actually just make a joke? Be still my beating heart."

They both laughed.

"Go on," Theo urged.

Blaise took a deep breath. "I was serious when I said that I loved you."

"I know. I was, too."

Blaise was glad for the veil of darkness. He shook his head, because he didn't think his friend DID understand. Crawling closer, he sat right beside him. "Please, try to understand, Theo. I want you finally to understand me. I've never wanted to hurt you, or cause you pain, but I think the time's right for you to hear the truth. I love you, more than as a friend."

Theo didn't flinch.

Finally, he took Blaise's hand in his. His touch was comforting, but Blaise couldn't tell if it was more. Theo said, "I do know that, Blaise. I just don't know if I…well…if I…what I can do with that right now." He dropped his friend's hand to the ground.

"Do you love Hermione?" Blaise asked.

"Fuck," Theo whispered in the dark, pulling his knees up to his chin.

"A yes or no would be a better response," Blaise chuckled.

"You just asked me if I loved you, and then you want to know if I love someone else, that's all. It's almost too much for me to bear right now," Theo repeated, pulling on the grass around his legs.

"That's because you hate to deal with anything emotional. You hate anything that's not neat and tidy and wrapped up with a bow or isn't on a coaster," Blaise said with a slight smirk. "But this is important. Here, let me admit my feelings first."

Theo groaned, kicked out his legs, and stood up. Pacing back and forth by Blaise, he said, "Did you or did you not just do that?"

"I meant, let me tell you what I feel for the little cub." Blaise stood up slowly. He suddenly felt like an old man. When he looked up, he could clearly see Theo looking at him with a round, expectant gaze. "Yes, I love her. I've fallen in love with her, rather. Does that shock you?"

"Fuck," Theo said again.

Blaise raised an eyebrow and said, "Usually you have a better vocabulary than you've portrayed here tonight." With an exaggerated sigh, he sat back down and added, "I know I've given you a lot to think on, but we don't have much time. She's going to die if we don't find a cure, yet the cure is right in front of us. It's so easy, it's shameful."

Rubbing his face with his hands, Theo said, "Adrian's little cure, you mean? We don't even know it'll work."

A small laugh. "How did you know about it…wait, I know, apparently Adrian told you, right?"

"Adrian tells me everything," Theo said, "unlike some of you."

"Touché," Blaise replied, "However, if I had told you that I loved you before tonight, I know you wouldn't have been receptive to it." Theo turned away from Blaise, but Blaise turned him back with one hand on his shoulder, "And don't go thinking I only did it now because of Granger. Yes, I would do anything to save her life, but my love for you has gone on longer than we've known about her illness, so give me some credit, alright."

Holding up his hands, (in defense of what, he didn't know) Theo said, "Fine. Fine. Just, seriously, it's a lot for a man to consider. And yes, I love her. I do. And yes, I love you, I do. And yes, I've known for a long time that's you've loved me as more than a friend, but you're right, I've not been able to accept it. Not that I couldn't accept you – I will always accept you. I just can't…I'm not…" he groaned again… "I'm not. Hell, Blaise, why would anyone love me?"

Theo plopped back down and then lay down, arms tightly around his middle, his back toward his friend. Blaise lay down behind him, placing one hand on his shoulder, and he said, "Why would anyone NOT love you, Theo? That's a better question to ask."

.

Marcus hit the toe of Adrian's shoe with the toe of his boot to wake his friend up. Adrian jerked awake. "Where am I?"

"Graveyard," Marcus grinned.

"Oh, shite." Adrian rubbed his eyes. "I can't believe I fell asleep."

"Yep, right here in the old section. I didn't have the heart to wake you at first, so I thought I'd let you sleep for a while. Then, I started thinking that it was time for us to go back," Marcus explained.

"That's dangerous, you know," Adrian supplied.

"Going back?"

"No, you thinking too hard," he joked.

Marcus laughed at his friend's taunt, even as he stood and offered him his hand. Helping Adrian to stand, Marcus said, "True, true. I'm more of the muscle of the group, not the brains."

Adrian gave him a lopsided grin and said, "No, you're the heart of the group. Hey, listen, seriously, thanks for always being the one to help me come back to earth when my head gets too much in the clouds."

"Because you're on one of your 'I'm a deity' trips?" Marcus asked, biting back a laugh.

Adrian glared at him, but didn't respond. They started walking back to their campsite, aware they could Apparate, but knowing they needed the time to walk, and possibly talk.

Adrian asked, "Do you really think I manipulate everyone for my own gain?"

"Sometimes." Marcus concluded, "And sometimes you do it for their own good, so it's alright in the end."

"I didn't send Granger or those other two members of our team to Peru to die. I swear it on my own life. I didn't believe the claims of the curse at first. I didn't." He stopped walking and pulled on the back of Marcus' shirt. "You believe me, right?"

"Of course," Marcus answered, a wane smile at his disposal. "But that's part of the problem. You didn't believe it to be so, so it couldn't be so, but I'm not going to beat you up over it anymore. We have to be pragmatic now. We have to solve this problem. We have to heal Theo and save Granger's life in the process."

Adrian stared at Marcus and finally said, "Pragmatic? Have you been taking a course on how to use big words while I wasn't looking?"

Marcus drew back his hand and hit Adrian on the arm as hard as he could. "There. That's your answer."

Rubbing his arm, Adrian said, "Egad, Flint. How pragmatic of you."

"Do you want me to punch your other arm?" Flint asked seriously.

"Please no. I take it back about you being the heart of our group, too. You are still and always will be the muscle. I forgot how strong you are." Still rubbing his arm, they walked along the dark woods and Adrian asked, "Remember when we were teenagers, and Theo was beaten by his father because of the crush he had on Granger?"

"How could I forget that? His father, never quite in the inner Death Eater circle that my father or Draco's father was in, didn't want the news to get out, so when he heard about it, he beat the poor boy so bad that he ended up in St. Mungo's. His mum claimed he fell off a broom, but we all knew different."

"Yeah," Adrian said softly. "A few days later, if I recall, his father met with a misfortunate accident, didn't he?"

"Did he?" Marcus asked back. "I don't recall."

They continued walking. Adrian said, "I do. My father told me about it at the time, and I never commented on it to any of you. My father, who as you know, was never a true Death Eater like yours, had heard that his father was beaten for some serious transgression against the Dark Lord. But what my father found odd, as did I, was that the Dark Lord would have either used the Crucio on him or killed him. He wouldn't have wasted time beating him, like a common Muggle."

With his head turned away from Adrian, Marcus said, "You don't say."

"You were just a boy, not too much older than Theo, my age, but you were always taller than the rest of us, bigger, stronger," Adrian initiated.

Marcus walked on.

"Anyway, I was glad he got his comeuppance, that's all. I wonder if Theo ever knew the why's and how's of it."

"He knew," Marcus responded. "He thanked me, in his own way." Marcus stopped walking and stopped by a tree. "Astoria's the one who told his father about his infatuation with the little Gryffindor, you know that, don't you? Daphne told me at the time. I felt it was the least I could do. My father even knew about it. Hell, he was proud of me, sick bastard that he was. He always hated Nott Senior."

They started walking again, when suddenly, Marcus stopped and said, "You know, my father and Draco's father might have been the worst Death Eaters, or in theory, the best Death Eaters around, but they loved their sons. Your father was a pureblood elitist who thought the Dark Lord was the true saviour of our world, but he would never have laid a hand on his flesh and blood. Blaise doesn't know who his father was, and he's had some terrible stepfathers, some decent ones, and a couple of great ones, but his mother would have done anything to protect her son, even kill someone who hurt him. But Theo only had us. I realized that when I was just a kid. It was a scary and a daunting thought, but I took my role of protector of him seriously from the time I realized that to this day."

Adrian nodded, because he was too ensconced in emotions to speak. So instead, he merely nodded in the darkness of the night, reached out a hand, placed it on the other man's arm, and gave it a squeeze. Marcus was not only the heart and the muscle of the group, but the soul, and Adrian wasn't sure he had ever loved him more.

They started walking again, quietly, but together.

.

Draco woke up and he was cold and shivering. He realized instantly that he was in his childhood bed. The lavish green canopy a familiar sight to his sleepy eyes. His arm was over something – someone. Granger. Granger was beside him.

But she wasn't sleeping. She too was awake. He wondered what time it was. Very early, if the strange eerie grey tinge to the room was any indication. He pulled Hermione closer to him, and that was when he noticed that she was crying. She was crying when they fell asleep and she was crying when they awoke.

Well, wasn't that just perfect. He told her he loved her, wanted to make love to her, wanted to save her life, and she cried, and cried and cried. He would probably cry TOO if he knew it was up to HIM to save someone's life.

He placed his cheek on hers, kissed a tear from the corner of her eye, and though she stiffened slightly, he didn't pause. He didn't ask her what was wrong, he didn't give her a chance to retreat. Instead, he pulled her back against his chest and kissed her cheek again.

When she turned her head slightly to look at him, brown eyes awash with tears, a bolt of electricity went through her body to his. He wanted her so badly. He desired this woman. Fine. He didn't love her. But he wanted her and he wanted to make it so she didn't hurt any longer. Didn't cry any longer. And he would help her find a cure to the curse. He would make sure Theo loved her, and that somehow it all turned out fine for everyone.

He usually failed at everything he did (unless he was doing something for himself) but this time he made a silent vow and he would keep it or his name wasn't Draco Malfoy, and hell, his name certainly was Draco Malfoy.

Stroking her arms, back, face, tenderly, expectantly, wanting, waiting, he kissed her again and again, the back of her neck, her hair, her eyes.

Lacing his hands through her curls, he pulled on her hair enough to make her turn her head so he could capture her mouth in an open kiss. He kissed her so thoroughly, deeply thrusting his tongue into her mouth that he thought he could taste her sorrow, or her sadness, and it made him want to weep with her.

How odd.

He placed a hand on her stomach, then up under her blouse, to a plump, ripe breast. Holding it in his hand, he continued to kiss her mouth as his erection pushed into her tight, round arse. He didn't think he could wait. He also didn't think she would want him to. This wasn't about making love. It was about comfort – sexual comfort – in the here and now.

Plucking her nipple with his forefinger and thumb, he adjusted his other hand under her body, opened her slacks, and pushed his hands inside her clothing, until her breathing caught, and she tore her mouth away from his, clutched his wrist with one hand, the pillow with the other.

Yes, he'd found the right spot.

He thumbed her, then moved his fingers inside. She backed against him, sighing, her breath quickening. He quickly moved one hand to his trousers, released himself, pushed her slacks and knickers down, and then placed his large hand over the V of her thighs.

Placing his fingers back inside her, she started to moan. He licked the outer shell of her ear, bit down on the lobe, kissed her neck, and when he felt the back of her bum hit the most sensitive part of him, he knew that she wanted this as much as he did, even if she might protest later.

But he would remind her that this wasn't about making love. This had nothing to do with Theo. This was only about him and her and what they meant to each other, and nothing more.

Placing a hand on her hip to keep her in place, he lifted her top leg slightly, placing it over his legs, and then he slipped inside her. She was warm. She welcomed him in the best possible way. They moved and played and stayed like that until she turned her head slightly.

"Draco?" she said, as if in pain.

"Don't think, Granger."

She moaned again. "I love Theo."

"I told you, so do I, but don't think," he groaned. He devoured her lips after that, so she couldn't even justify talking again. Finally, delving in a few more times, she tore her face from his and screamed. She actually screamed.

And yes. Draco Malfoy screamed, too.

They were relaxed in each other's arms; he reached down for the covers and pulled it back over them right before he pulled out of her. Then he straightened their clothing the best he could, looked down at her and saw that her eyes were already closed. "Sleep a bit more, Granger. We'll figure it all out in the morning."


	30. Chapter 30 A Day in the Life

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 30 – A Day in the Life**

A few days after the jaunt in the graveyard, Theodore Nott was reading the newspaper in his study when it dawned on him that Hermione Granger had been staying with them for six whole weeks now. In many ways, it felt as if she had been with them much longer.

In other ways, it felt as if she hadn't been with them any time at all. Folding the paper carefully in half, he placed it on the corner of his desk and pulled out a piece of parchment that was a replica of Hermione Granger's 'List'.

It was decided that Blaise would pick the next task to do. Wondering what would be his friend's choice, he came upon another disheartening thought. As soon as they completed the entire list Hermione's life would be almost over, yet he also felt a desperate need to complete every task on the list before her life ended. It was a daunting feeling, in deed.

A part of him still wanted to know what her last four items were…the four that she kept hidden in that Muggle book about killing birds, (something about killing mocking birds). Someday he would have to find out, not just to ease his curiosity, but because he felt deep in his soul that there was an answer to their problem within the folds of those hidden pages. He felt they needed to complete THE ENTIRE LIST or else…what? With a solemn sigh, he stood and walked over to the windows – the ones that looked out over the back garden.

He used to love his back garden. When he first moved here, he would spend as much time out there as he could, and then Astoria ruined it for him by soiling and tainting the space forever by taking her life there.

Moreover, he further spoiled it by trying to take his own life at almost the exact same spot; a mere six weeks after Astoria took her life. Though he often thought only Adrian knew of his deep secret, (since it was Adrian who had initially found him) he suspected that Adrian had probably told the other Vipers that he tried to kill himself that day.

The day Theo tried to kill himself was a beautiful winter's day. It was November. It wasn't cold, as November days usually were. That November day was warm, all things considering. It was six weeks after Astoria had died and the friendship between all of the Vipers was in shreds, and everyone blamed everyone else for the tattered remnants of their relationships, when really it wasn't any one person's fault.

Draco had already come to live with Theo, to baby sit him really, and to atone for sins that he felt he had sinned against his oldest friend. And although Draco didn't need to tell Theo he was sorry for anything, (for Theo never blamed Draco for a single thing), Theo knew that Draco felt an overwhelming sense of culpability and guilt, which was the only thing that put a strain on their already strained relationship.

Marcus wasn't speaking to Draco, because of one minor act of indiscretion between Daphne and Draco that happened right after Astoria died. It was a single act by two people who needed solace from their friends, couldn't find any, so they found it in each other. No one understood that but Theo. He wished at the time he could have been angry with them, but he couldn't. He wouldn't.

Blaise, who had never forgiven Astoria for her sins against Theo, had somehow, in Theo's opinion, begun blaming the sins on Theo, so they weren't speaking. In hindsight, Theo now knew that Blaise probably didn't blame Theo for anything. Blaise probably was merely hurting for his friend, hating what Astoria did to him, and he had no way to voice either of those things to anyone.

The way everyone was acting toward each other at the time made Adrian unusually surly and taciturn, so he merely began to work more and more, so that he didn't have to deal with any of them. In the meanwhile, Theo was lost, sad, and alone.

And he saw no reason to continue feeling the pain that he felt. It wasn't that he wanted to die - it was merely that he didn't want to continue to live. In his mind, they were two vastly different things. Now that Hermione was dying, he could see how stupid he was to think such a thing, but at the time, he thought he was justified and righteous in his 'right' to want to end the pain.

Placing his hand upon the windowpane, he spied Hermione in the back garden with her kitten. He wanted to go to her. He wanted…well…so much. He wanted something normal, real, lasting. He couldn't have that with her, but he wanted to try.

Maybe Blaise would forfeit his turn at 'The List', so that Theo could take another turn. He had something he wanted to do, and it was important. It really was. He would Owl Blaise right away.

.

Hermione walked into her house from outside, with her little kitten in tow, and she couldn't help but to smile. Something felt different today. There was a shift in the atmosphere. A schism in the earth's gravitational pull. A polarization of…okay…perhaps all of that was a bit extreme. Still, something definitely felt different to Hermione in the bright light of day.

She thought it when she woke up this morning and she first decided to go spend the morning out in the back garden, to bask in the bright spring sunshine with her kitten.

She thought it yesterday morning when she woke up and she found a single yellow rose from Blaise, along with a note telling her that they needed to get back to her list. The note also said, **_'Congratulations - you've completed another task from your list! You're a Viper now!'_**

She thought it the morning before that when she woke up a bit stiff from the night in the graveyard, only to find herself in Draco Malfoy's childhood bed, with its gaudy, green curtains and the 'Slytherin' memorabilia all over the walls, and Draco Malfoy's arms around her. She knew that morning…that moment…that second…that something good would come from the night in the graveyard. She didn't know at the time what it would be, but she felt, deep in her bone marrow, that something good would happen, (along with the completion of a task) and soon.

When she awoke this morning, three days later, after that frightful night in the graveyard, a slightly more frightful night's sleep, and that fitful early morning bout of sex, she found out that she was happy for it all. Days later, she woke up in her own bed, in her own little flat, with her own little kitten (what was his current name?) on the pillow beside her, and she was almost, dare she say it – happy. She was content.

She was alive. And that was fine by her.

Walking into her flat, she nudged her kitten in the door with her foot, closed the door behind them, stretched, and looked at the clock, saw it said two minutes after twelve noon, smiled, and then bounded toward the tall windows of her bedroom. Throwing back the drapes and the sheers, she said, "Good day, sunshine!"

She felt happy. Relieved. Her current state of mind had nothing to do with the sex from Draco three days ago. It had nothing to do with the completion of another task from her 'to do' list. It had nothing to do with the thought that another task was about to happen tonight. It had absolutely everything to do with the very fact that she could finally admit that she didn't want to die and she was actively going to do something about it.

Before, she merely went through the motions of acting as if she was trying to find a way out of her predicament. Now, she was really going to find a cure. Perhaps it was because she had a reason to live. Perhaps it was because she was in love.

She was in love. She was in love with…well, Theo. And a little bit with Blaise. And frankly, she was slightly enamored with Marcus, even though he was taken (because really, wasn't he perfectly dreamy? The perfect man?) And yes, Malfoy was an attentive lover. And Adrian was Adrian.

Hermione banged her head on the window. No. She wouldn't confuse her sunshine related happy little morning with thoughts that she might very well be in love with all five of the Vipers. That couldn't be.

Perhaps she should make a list of their attributes and the reasons why she loved them and then she would clearly see whom she loved the most.

But then again, wasn't loving someone…well…loving? Was it truly measured in degrees? Hermione didn't think so. Walking over to her bathroom to take a much needed bath she decided to examine the evidence as it was presented to her.

Lounging in her tub, she thought about Theo first. Theo. Just thinking about him made her sigh. Then it made her tingle all over. Then it made her blush. He was truly 'swoon' worthy. She'd had a crush on him since she'd broken up with Ron, so for at least three to four years, maybe even longer. She'd fallen hard for him around the time of that picnic, and she'd fallen in love with him shortly after she moved in here. There was always something about the quiet, studious types that made Hermione's heart pitter-pat.

Smiling, she ducked her head in the water and lathered it with soap. The kitten was sitting on the side of the tub, watching her with interest. "What do you think, kitty?" she asked the little guy. "Theo Nott is certainly handsome. He's troubled, which makes a woman want to hug him and squeeze him and hold him tight. I mean, sure, I want to comfort him, fix him to a degree, sympathize with him, but there's more than that. I can tell he's a kind, generous man. He's well read, smart, and yet he's a bit on his guard."

Lathering the rest of her she stated, "Do you know he used to call me, 'Miss Granger' until just recently? I think it was his way of keeping me at arm's length, because he felt guilty for liking me, or something. Yes. Theo is a man any woman would be crazy not to love."

She squealed. Like a girl. She'd be embarrassed if she weren't alone in her tub. Rinsing off and drying with a towel she said to herself (since the kitten and bounded off for places unknown), "I can't believe I'm in love again. I didn't think I'd ever be in love again, but I know it's true. I feel the exact same thing for Theo that I felt for Ron all those years, but stronger. More mature. It's real. It's right. I just wish he'd open up to me. I wish I knew what he felt for me. I wish I knew it was reciprocated. If only he'd give me a sign. If only he'd show me that he felt the same thing for me."

As she stood in her closet to get dressed for the day, she began to think about Blaise. Remembering the fun they shared the night he helped her pick out an outfit for her night out with Marcus; she recalled how easy their conversations were. How right everything felt with him. The fun they shared.

Then she recalled kissing him. Touching him. Making love to him. Dressing, she looked in her mirror, saw she was blushing, and laughed. "You've got it bad for him, too, old girl," she told herself. And she knew she did. Perhaps that was why she felt better about things this morning. If the anti-curse really was falling in love with two people (or a triad), perhaps it was something that would happen naturally for her.

Because of all the Vipers, she was pretty certain she could say she was falling hard for Blaise. Love the person and all that shite aside, she wasn't sure how he felt for her. She knew Theo had once liked her (did he now?) but Blaise was a different kettle of fish. He was still a bit of an enigma.

She would worry about him later.

Tying her trainers, she frowned for the first time that day when she thought of the next Viper. Marcus Flint. Gee. She probably had the biggest 'crush' on him out of all of them. In her opinion, a crush was something someone felt for someone who was unobtainable. Marcus Flint was unobtainable. He was in love with Daphne Greengrass. He'd been with her since they were kids.

Of course, they weren't married yet. Brushing her hair, she wondered why. Why wasn't Marcus and Daphne married? Marcus would make a wonderful father. Out of all of them, he would be the best father, she thought with a grin. She couldn't imagine Blaise as a father. Theo would have to learn to be a father. Draco, ha, Draco could merely do everything opposite of what his father had done and things would be okay. Adrian had once told her that he hated kids.

Hermione definitely wanted children – if she lived. If she lived, she wanted children and Marcus Flint would be the best father of the bunch. He was practically THE FATHER figure of the group as it was. Adrian might think he was, but in Hermione's opinion, Adrian was an old mother hen, bossy and demanding. Marcus was the father, protective and proud.

Drinking some juice and eating some fruit for lunch, Hermione began to think about Draco. As much as she hated to admit it, Draco Malfoy made her laugh more than any of the other Vipers did. More than George Weasley. Frankly, she never really found George Weasley's humour that funny. Draco Malfoy was debonair and self-effacing and he kept her highly entertained. He also knew when she needed protecting. Who would have known that the boy who made her cry the most as a child would be the one who made her smile the most now?

Brushing her teeth after her lunch, she thought of Adrian. He challenged her the most. He kept her grounded. He told her she was full of shite when she didn't think she was, he kept her head from being too far in the clouds when she didn't think it was, and he never let her take herself too seriously. When she would attempt to show off how much she knew, or how smart she was, he would cut her down, trample on her, and ground her to dust.

She liked that in a man.

She needed someone like Adrian to keep her from being too 'Hermionish' because he was often that way himself. He pulled no punches. He was so much like her sometimes it scared her. He was comfortable, like her old brown jumper. He fit her like no other. When they were together they automatically KNEW what the other one was thinking, or wanted, or needed. It was good to be with someone like that – who knew you as well as you knew yourself. After Harry and Ron, Adrian was her best friend in the whole world.

She grabbed a book and sat down on her couch to read, but she never opened the book. She kept it in her lap. The smile that was on her face when the day began slipped away to be replaced with a grim expression.

Then she sighed loud and long.

Goodness. Hermione was in a bigger pickle than she realized, because she just might love all five of them.

Instead of her problems being solved, they were worse than before. Looking up toward the Heavens, she said, "I could really use that sign right about now...you know, the one that would show me which Viper is truly the one for me?"

The sound of someone knocking on the door caused her to jump and the book that was on her lap fell to the floor. Bounding from the couch, she headed toward the door, opened it widely, and then smiled at the person on the other side.

"Hello, Miss Granger," he said softly, with a slight smile, while offering her his hand.

"Theo." It was all she said in return. She smiled back at him and looked down at his outstretched hand. Was that hand for her?

"I wondered if you wouldn't mind joining me for lunch in the back garden?" he asked.

Her mouth flew open in shock. Fighting the urge to look over at the cup, saucer, plate and knife, which were still on the table from her light lunch, she clarified, "Did you say…" only to stop herself. She almost said the "the back garden?", because she was shocked that he would want to go there, but instead, she replaced it quickly with the word, "lunch?"

He nodded, his hand still reaching out toward hers, palm up.

Placing her hand in his, she bit her bottom lip and went out the door with him. Suddenly, her earlier dilemma as to whom she loved most seemed obsolete as well. She loved this man the most…although the others were all a close second.

* * *

_*There will probably be only two more chapters and then a slight hiatus for the month of December. Sorry. I'm close to being burnt out as a person can be. Then I promise I'll come back in Jan. to finish the story!_


	31. Chapter 31 Two of Us

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 3****1**** – ****Two ****of ****Us**

…_You and I have memories, longer than the road that stretches out ahead..._

Hermione Granger placed her hand in Theodore Nott's hand and suddenly she felt like the most cherished, treasured person on the face of the planet – merely from his touch. She'd held a belief over the last few weeks that Theo had a special gift, which was the gift of healing. Now she knew it to be so, even if in her case the healing was purely on an emotional level. There was such intensity in his eyes and his voice that she felt utterly safe and as if she were on the road to healing in some magnificent way. Would she share these thoughts and feelings with him, or keep them to herself? That was the question that plagued her mind as he ushered her down the stairs and on to the grass of the back garden without a word.

Who needed words? Things were being said silently between them. Things that spoke louder than a clanging gong. Things that reverberated in her heart and soul. Things such as…

_I trust you. _

_I care for you. _

_I would never hurt you._

_You are my soul mate._

_I love you._

Moreover, this silent dialogue went both ways, for she squeezed his hand when they came upon the little stone patio surrounded by massive evergreen trees. She wanted him to know that everything he was relaying to her in their silent communiqué was the exact same thing that she wanted to say in return to him. She wanted him to know that he could trust her as much as she felt she could trust him.

And by him bringing her here – of all places – he was telling her that he did.

She knew it was a devastating experience for him to be so near to a place that he had avoided for so long, but words couldn't express how much it meant to her that he wanted to come here with her. Words, empty hollow words, couldn't express how much it meant to her that he wanted to share this experience with her.

A slight intake of breath was the only sound he made as he pushed back the boughs of an overgrown evergreen tree, (one of many that surrounded this isolated piece of his back garden) and pulled her toward the center to a little stone bench. He sat first, though he still had her hand.

She remained standing long enough to stare directly into his eyes, cup his cheek with one hand, and lean toward him. She kissed his forehead and said, "Thank you."

Again, she meant more to him than those words relayed. Those two words meant:

_Thank you for bringing me here, especially when I know how painful it is for you. _

_Thank you for wanting to share a part of your painful past with me._

_Thank you for helping me face the present and for helping me not be afraid of the future._

Awkwardly, he let go of her hand, stared down at the cobble-stoned patio, where weeds were abundant and sunshine refused to shine, and he finally spoke. He said simply, "You're welcome."

Because he knew WHY she was thanking him, and he wanted her to know that he wouldn't have been able to face this place without her. Therefore, he said, "You're welcome." A short little phrase that sometimes said more than its predecessor, 'thank you'. For anyone could say thank you and not even mean it – but to acknowledge that 'thank you' was a monumental thing, at least for Theo Nott.

Because to acknowledge her thank you meant that he acknowledge her strength, her warmth, her love.

With grace, she sat beside him, took up his hand again, and said, "So why are we here? I think I know, but I need you to say it aloud."

Withdrawing his hand from hers, he removed a small piece of parchment from his pocket and said, "I stole this a little while ago. From your flat, while you were bathing."

Wondering what that statement had to do with her question, she frowned slightly and asked, "What is it?"

"The rest of your original list." Lacking her courage, he didn't look at her when he said it. Instead, he looked down at the folded piece of parchment in his hand, and then transferred it to the other hand, where he twirled it around for a moment, waiting expectantly for her to speak, because he could no longer hear her silent thoughts.

"How did you know about it?" she asked, reaching over and taking the list from him as adroitly as she could. Still, in her hurry to remove it from his grasp, she dropped it and it floated down without poise to the stones by their feet. She left it there, waiting for her answer.

"I saw your list the first time on the night you moved in," he admitted, turning slightly on the stone bench to gauge her reaction. "I realized there had to be more to that list than the sixteen things written on the first piece of paper, because you labeled the list, '_The t__wenty t__hings __I __want __to __do_…' etcetera, etcetera. Then, about a week later, I saw this in one of your books. I peaked only at the contents and saw it held numbers seventeen through twenty. That's how I knew it was the rest of your list."

She didn't interrupt him or comment, so he forged ahead. "I put it back in the book about mocking birds and didn't look at it again, until now."

"Why now?" she asked anxiously.

"It's important."

She clenched her mouth close and turned her face away from him.

.

Theo stood, unable to contain the feelings that were descending upon him. How could he explain to her that a secret little 'sixth sense' that he had honed over the years told him that she needed to complete her ENTIRE list if she was to be healed from this curse?

How could he tell her that saving her life might be the only thing that would finally set him free from the shackles and chains that weren't literal, but which still had a firm hold on him, and tethered him right here to this bench, in this garden?

How could he tell her that he loved her and wanted to take care of her and he wanted to help her fulfill her dying wish, if the curse had its way and took her life on her birthday?

How could he tell her he was afraid? More afraid than he had ever been in his entire life. More afraid than when he was a child and his father beat him. More afraid than he was when his mother ignored him. More afraid than when he found out the woman he was set to marry loved another. More afraid than he was when he stood upon this stone bench after transfiguring a limb of one of the large pine tree above them into a rope. More afraid than when he fashioned a noose, only to place it around his neck, and vowed that he wanted to die the very same way that Astoria died, but for very different reasons.

Mostly, how could he tell her that he was more afraid than he was when he felt the light inside of him begin to dim as darkness descended around him, and he knew that in a matter of moments, he would be dead, only to realize that he didn't want to die, but it was too late?

How could he tell her any of these things if _she_ couldn't even tell him what was on a fucking piece of parchment?

He sat back down beside her, urged her closer with his arm firmly around her, and placed his foot on the edge of the piece of parchment. Her silence unnerved him, because he felt her tension and apprehension, and those were two things he never wanted to feel from her.

With his hand sliding from her shoulders to the nape of her neck under her hair, he rubbed his thumb back and forth on her smooth skin before he said, "Consider the things on this list as a means to an end – not the end of the list, or the end of your life, but as a way of letting go. If you'd like, we can consider it as a means to fulfilling one of the tasks from your other list. It will be like climbing a mountain, a proverbial one, but still a mountain nonetheless."

When she didn't answer, he stopped the movement of his thumb. Then he slid his hand to her neck, then to her cheek, before he forced her to look at him. Staring into her deep brown eyes, he replied, "Wasn't that on your list? Climbing a mountain? Telling me what's on this list will be like you and me climbing a mountain, Miss Granger."

With the use of his long forgotten nickname for her - 'Miss Granger', so formal, so familiar, she relaxed against him, her weight leaning to one side, and she asked, "How so? How is this remotely like climbing a mountain?"

"Well, when one climbs a mountain, they do it because it's a challenge, it's hard, but it makes them feel exhilarated and strong, and when they're through, they know they've done something incredibly hard, but the scenery and sheer beauty of all that they see from the top of that mountain is so sweet. Gads, Granger, its so sweet it's divine."

With a hand on his thigh, she drew little circles on the top of his trouser leg and added, "And going down is easier than going up, right?"

"Exactly," he smiled.

Pulling back from him slightly, she asked, "Are you going to climb the mountain with me?"

To which he responded, "I'm halfway up already, Granger. I've walked out to my back garden, a place I've avoided for a long time now. I presume you know what happened here, right?"

She picked up his hand and kissed the top, then held it tightly between both of hers. "I know, yes, I know. You don't need to talk of it."

"But I want, no, I need to talk about it. You know about Astoria, but do you know about me?"He closed his eyes, a feeling of fatalism and dread descending upon him. He didn't want her to know his shameful secret. He had to tell her, though. He had to, even if she already knew it, she deserved to hear it from him. Sitting in the shade of the circle of trees was rather like sitting in a dark room. Somehow he felt safer talking to her here than anywhere else. The setting was perfect, and she was beside him, ready to hear his confession, and he was ready to tell her everything.

He held nothing back. He explained in brisk words how he came here months after Astoria died, how he felt sorry for himself, unloved, depressed, not good for anything, and in his depressed state he tried to commit the same act that took Astoria's life, only at the last moment he realized that he didn't want to die.

Thank goodness, Adrian found him in time. Then his friend promised him that it would be all right, that everything, somehow, would be all right.

Then he told her how he felt every time his father hit him. The physical scars had faded. The internal scars never would.

He explained how he waited his entire life to hear his mother say that she loved him, and how he even went to her on her deathbed, against his better judgment, and how she slipped away without saying anything about love, although she did tell him that she was proud of him. At least that was something.

His biggest secret of all was that he was confused about love, because love was often evasive and elusive to him, but that he was learning about it from his friends, from Blaise, and from her.

She would either reject him now – weak soul that he was or she would embrace him. It was one or the other. He knew it would be. He waited for her response, ashamed of his story, ashamed of his weaknesses, but feeling rather as if a part of his soul was restored in the telling of his story.

His hand was still on her back, stroking up and down her spine. His other hand still encased in hers. Still he waited.

"I want to have children," she finally said. Then she started to cry. "I want to get married, find someone who loves me, who will cherish and love me forever, and have a family with him. Mostly, I don't want to die. That's not the rest of my list verbatim, but the gist of it."

She slumped over, and at the same time, he pulled her on to his lap, embracing her with all the warmth he could provide. With his cheek against her hair, he turned his face slightly to kiss her temple and he said, "We're at the top of the summit, Hermione. Look around. Don't things look better from up here?"


	32. Chapter 32 Blackbird

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter****32**** – ****Blackbird**

…_Blackbird singing in the dead of night- lift your broken wings and learn to fly. All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arrive…_

_Lennon/McCartney_

Blaise Zabini knocked on the front door of Theo and Draco's townhouse but as usual, there was no answer. He didn't know why he bothered knocking. It wasn't as if their wards kept him out, therefore, he could Apparate directly inside anytime he wanted. Still, for the most part, he tried to be a considerate sort of chap, so he usually knocked first, Apparated second.

When no one answered his knock he tried the handle, found it locked, so he 'popped' on inside. The front rooms, as well as the foyer, were all dark. It was only a quarter to six in the evening. Where was Draco? Where was Theo? Where was the little cub?

He was supposed to meet Draco here to discuss their plans for executing the next things on Hermione's list. They were going to work in tandem, do two things at once, and conquer her fear of clowns (oddly enough, at Greg Goyle's birthday party in two nights) AND sing in public, as the party was being held at Blaise's club.

Originally, Blaise had planned on doing her next task today, but then Theo had asked Blaise if he could 'jump' ahead of him and take Blaise's place in picking the next task for Hermione, and since Blaise understood that it was important to Theo, he said yes. Perchance Theo and Hermione were still working on whatever task they had decided to conquer. Blaise had no clue what that might have been. Theo was very tight lipped about it, and he begged Blaise not to inform the other Vipers that he was taking an early turn with her.

Walking around the downstairs, turning on lights with his wand as he passed from one room to another, he treaded softly, anticipating that he might find Theo and Hermione in one of the rooms. After searching every room on the first floor – library, office, living room, dining room, and kitchen - he bounded for the second. They weren't in the billiard's room, the study, the media room, the den. Blaise ran up to the third floor. No sign of her in either of his fellow Viper's bedrooms…in fact, no sign of his fellow Vipers either.

Blaise walked all the way into Theo's bedroom and sat down upon his perfectly made bed. Running his hand back and forth lightly across the top of the duvet cover, he looked at everything in its perfect little orderly place in this room and he almost cringed. Poor Theo. Having to have everything be in its place – perfect – untarnished – clean – was the only way he felt he had control over things. Blaise could relate whole-heartedly. Every time his mother would bring home a new husband when Blaise was young, Blaise would retreat into his bedroom and line up his toy soldiers, or his books, or later in life, his clothing, as a way of 'controlling' his own little piece of an uncontrollable situation.

The only difference was that Blaise grew out of that. He moved out of his mother's home, found that he didn't care to whom his mother wed, and knew that the person had no power, good or bad, over him. Only HE had power over himself.

Theo had yet to grow out of his need to control the environment around him, even though his mother, father, and bitch of an ex-girlfriend were long dead.

Blaise stood. Stretching, his gaze went to the tall windows at the end of the room that overlooked the back garden. He walked over to the curtains and pulled one back with a brush of his hand and there they were. It was hard to see them, tucked inside the circle of ancient conifers as they were, but Blaise saw them clearly. Theo was sitting to Hermione's right, his arm around her shoulder, his other hand holding hers. They were talking intimately, of things Blaise could only imagine.

Hermione's head went to Theo's shoulder. It was a touching scene. Blaise felt as if he wanted to be a part of it. Someday soon, he would.

For that was the thing. Blaise Zabini always got what he wanted. Unlike some spoiled brats of their acquaintance (Draco Malfoy), Blaise worked hard for the things he had, or plotted endlessly for the things he wanted. And he was thankful when they came to him. Most of all, he was patient.

For example, he had patiently waited for Theo Nott to acknowledge that there was more than mere friendship between them. Yet Blaise wondered if Theo REALLY understood what Blaise meant when he told the other man that he loved him. He really loved him. To a person like Theo, love wasn't easily defined, so he may not yet understand what Blaise really meant by those three little words.

Because even though Blaise had never known a father's love (or even who his father was), Blaise knew love. His mother had always loved him. His mother always placed him first. Why, his mother had even divorced one or two of her husbands merely because her son didn't like them, or they didn't like him.

That's not to say she spoiled him, because she didn't. She could say no to him. It was just very hard, because he was very persuasive. He inherited his mother's beautiful looks, he inherited what he assumed was his father's dark completion, but his easygoing personality and come what may attitude was certainly all his own. Women found him irresistible and sexy. Men found him alluring and beguiling. Old people thought he was charming. Children thought he was mad fun. Everyone thought he was handsome or even beautiful. Even dogs and cats loved him.

There was a reason everyone loved Blaise Zabini. It was because he was lovable. He WAS handsome. He WAS sexy. He was intelligent, fun, smart, and charming. Yes, everyone loved Blaise Zabini, and he usually loved almost everyone in return, at least on the surface.

Early on, he knew he was different, too. He knew he was attracted to both women and men and when he told his mother this little interesting fact (at the ripe old age of fourteen) his mother smiled and told him that of course he did, and that she would expect nothing less of him.

How stupid of him to think he had hid this part of him from his friends all these years. He truly thought only Adrian, and possibly Draco, knew the truth. In the end, it didn't matter to any of them. They still loved him. And in the words of Blaise's mother…but of course, they would.

Blaise placed his hand on the glass and watched as Theo drew Hermione on top of his lap. They were so fucking beautiful together. How was he going to reach them? How could he make them see that he wanted them – both of them? Hermione reached up a tentative hand toward Theo's cheek and then placed her lips upon his.

Blaise closed his eyes and recalled the feel of her lips on his lips, his chest, and his body. She was a shy, but eager lover. He grew hard just thinking of her. Ever since that night together, almost two months ago, he had wanted her again with such intensity that he cringed just thinking of it. He hadn't even had another lover since her. His hand had been his only friend. He laughed at that thought and then looked back outside.

Theo's mouth was going across Hermione's cheek, to her neck. He wondered if they had made love yet. He didn't think so. Perhaps they would make love out there in the garden. Perhaps Blaise could watch. Perhaps Blaise could join them.

Laughing again, he suddenly had another thought…a jolting thought. Theo and the little cub were in the back garden. _The __back __garden._ Where the bitch killed herself. Where, supposedly, Theo tried to do the same thing.

Blinking hard, he moved from the window and slid down the wall. Shaking violently, he began to think of what might have happened if Adrian hadn't found Theo. What if he had died?

Then another terrible thought rained downed on him…what if they couldn't find a cure in time for the cub? What if Hermione Granger died? It would kill Theo. It would kill the rest of the Vipers, and it would kill Blaise Zabini. Which would also mean that for once in his life, Blaise Zabini wouldn't get what he wanted.

Banging his fists on his knees, he struggled to stand and shouted out, "Bloody hell, not likely." Blaise Zabini always got what he wanted, and he wanted Hermione Granger and Theo Nott and he didn't care who knew it, who judged him, or who thought it was right or wrong.

And if, in the end, Theo and Hermione didn't want him in the same way that he wanted them…well…he would deal with that when the time came, although he couldn't fathom that possibility. But, he loved them enough that if they only wanted each other, he would give them what they wanted. True, he had never considered that until now, but that didn't mean he couldn't be a bigger man and give them up if he had to, did it?

He turned to look back out the window. They were still kissing. It seemed innocent, yet glaringly beautiful. They were so fucking beautiful, yes they were. He couldn't help but to laugh once more. No. He couldn't AND wouldn't give them up, no matter what. It wasn't going to happen.

"Blaise?"

Blaise turned around to see Draco Malfoy standing in the doorway of Theo's bedroom. "Yeah?"

"Why are you in Theo's room?" Draco asked, stepping over the threshold.

"I couldn't find you," Blaise answered. "Where were you?"

"Out making arrangements with Goyle. What's going on here?" Draco made a sweeping motion with his hand toward the room.

Blaise placed his hand back on the curtains, pulled them to the side, and then cocked his head toward the window. "Theo's in the back garden."

"What!" In his surprise at that statement, Draco ran toward the window, tripping over a rug that was in front of the dresser. He fell, without ceremony, on the floor, sprawling out on his back to stare up at the ceiling.

Blaise released the drapes, walked over to him, laughing, and he looked down. "Have a nice trip, did you?"

"Fuck you," Draco replied from his place on his back on the floor. "Are you serious? Theo's in the garden?"

Nodding, Blaise answered, "With Granger. I think they were working on one of the list items. I was spying on them. They're kissing, too."

Draco moved to sit on the floor, placing his back against the side of the bed. Blaise offered his friend his hand, but Draco hit the hand away. Blaise sat on the bed, his legs by Draco's back. Draco's head lowered and he repeated, "They're kissing?"

"Yes, that's what I said." Blaise reached out and smoothed a hand over Draco's head, but Draco pulled away at the touch.

"Do you think they kiss a lot?" Draco asked with his head once again tucked into his chest.

"Possibly. Not likely, though, at least, not yet," Blaise responded, thinking carefully how to answer that question. "They've not had sex yet, of that I'm sure."

Draco sighed, but still didn't look up.

Placing one of his large hands on Draco's shoulder, Blaise asked, "What's wrong, mate?"

"I wanted it to be me," Draco whispered.

Sliding off the bed, Blaise sat beside his friend. "What?"

"I wanted her to choose me. Fall in love with me, not him," he clarified, turning his head toward the wall.

Blaise placed an arm around Draco's shoulder and said, "Yeah, I know."

Turning to face the other man, Draco asked, "Do you? Do you really know what I mean?"

Blaise nodded. "Yes, I really know what you mean."

"I usually get what I want," Draco stated. "You know that."

Blaise smiled. "I was just thinking the same thing, only about me."

Draco smiled now. Then he let his head loll onto his friend's shoulder. "The difference is that you always DO get what you want. Sometimes I don't. Why is that?"

"The Universe loves me more," Blaise answered seriously.

Draco snorted at that statement.

Blaise lifted his hand again and hesitantly placed it on Draco's head before he said, "Fine, how about, I love the Universe more, so therefore, I deserve the things I want more than you do."

"Not making me feel any better, Zabini!" Malfoy quipped.

Moving his hand upon Draco's head, to stroke his hair away from his face, he continued to stroke his hand up and down his friend's blond hair and finally said, "I don't know the real answer to that question, Malfoy. I really don't. You're a good person, deep inside, and you deserve good things, too."

Draco didn't respond.

Blaise lifted his hand to stroke Draco's fringe of bangs away from his face. "Malfoy?"

"What, you wanker?"

"They're beautiful together, you know? Like, really beautiful. And I love them both. And I want them both. And, well, I always get what I want, just like you said, so I'm sorry, but this time you lose, mate."

Draco lifted his head and looked into the eyes of his best friend. "Yes, well, the Universe loves you more, so you deserve it more, I guess. Anyway, I don't feel the same way about Theo as you do, even though I do love him, but still, I think I'm in love with her. I think I've always been in love with her, and I still wish it were me."

Blaise nodded silently again, brushed his hand down Draco's cheek to cup it, and then he struggled to his feet. This time when he offered Draco a hand, he took it. Then without direction or aim, Draco wandered hand-in-hand over to the window with Blaise.

Releasing his hand, Blaise positioned Draco in front of the window, and then moved the curtain aside, before pointing down below. Theo and Hermione were holding each other, no longer kissing, just holding each other in a graceful embrace, a silent repose, and Draco sighed, because it WAS beautiful.

"I still wish it were me," Draco mulled.

"I know," Blaise acknowledged, as he stood behind the other man.

Draco moved his hand to the curtain to hold it back, but he leaned backwards just enough so that his weight was held by his friend's body. Blaise placed both arms around Draco's body and held him there, as if he were holding in him place, or propping him up, or giving him unspoken strength.

Then Blaise said again, "I know."

* * *

_A/N – I don't know if the next chapter will be posted before my hiatus in December, but it's written, so possibly. It's called, "My Life" and it has her doing two task, as mentioned. _

_Thanks for all the generous reviews and praise and thoughtful insight. Thanks for reading. Thanks for everything! I hope you all still continue to care for this and follow it. Truly, I hope it's not meandering. It's going exactly how I want it to go. I can't remember EVER caring about a story as much as I care about this one._


	33. Chapter 33 My Life

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 33 – In My Life**

_There are places I remember,_

_All my life,_

_Though some have changed,_

_Some forever, not for better,_

_Some have gone and some remain._

Looking out from behind the closed curtains from the backside of the stage area of Blaise's club, Hermione Granger realized something. She had lived a charmed life in many ways. At least if anyone had asked that would have been her answer. Here she stood; ready to go out upon a stage and sing a song in front of a large group of people merely to cross off a task on a list, and the only thought that went through her head was that she had had a charmed and happy life – at least for the most part.

Taking a deep breath, she sang the first stanza of the song silently to herself and then she let the words ruminate through her brain. There _were _many places and people, which she remembered throughout her life, and although some had changed, and some had remained the same, for the most part, she could look back on her life fondly.

For one thing, she was a cherished daughter. Respected, wanted, and spoiled in many ways, given every advantage a young girl could ever want. Moreover, throughout all of her young life there was always one constant. She knew she was loved.

Her mother was the disciplinarian, but Hermione couldn't remember ever obtaining more than a mere swat on her bum once or twice, which never hurt more than a second or two. Vanquished to her room a few times – but seriously, how was that punishment? Once in her room she would read or play with her toys. Mostly her memories of her mother consisted of a pretty woman with laughing eyes and a kind smile who gave Hermione her love of books and knowledge.

Never once, in her entire time growing up, did her father punish her, even when she broke his favourite golf club whacking rosebushes when she was nine. What she remembered the most about her father was that he was a friend to everyone, that he was always quick with an anecdote or a witty remark, and that he laughed loud and often. She got her sense of humour and her moral compass from him.

No one expects to lose his or her parents young. It's a travesty when it happens, and when it happened to Hermione all she could think of was how utterly unfair it all was. Hermione's mother died when she was only 21, after a two-year battle with breast cancer, and right after it happened she went into the closet of her mother's bedroom, wrapped herself in one of her mother's old jumpers and cried for hours, chanting the same thing over and over… "My mother's dead." Even though Hermione knew it was going to happen, it still happened too fast. One day she was here and the next she was gone.

The only solace Hermione had was that she still had her father, she had her friends, and she was busy with University. She was also racked with guilt. She thought she should have spent more time with her mum instead of going off with Harry to find Horcruxes. She shouldn't have gone away to University. She shouldn't have sent her parent's to Australia. And for six months after her mum died, whenever Hermione would see a grown daughter with her mother – out shopping, grabbing some tea or coffee, or even in the midst of an argument at the market, she would find herself so full of envy that she had to stop and tell herself that all would be all right.

Then her dad got sick and truthfully, it all became too much to bear. His illness was shorter than her mum's, although Hermione suspected he knew he was ill and he merely kept it from her. That was something else they shared…their secretive nature. One day, shortly after her 24th birthday, her dad sat her down and said, "Princess, I've got pancreatic cancer and I'm not going to make it. However, you're going to be all right. Mummy and I made sure of that."

Hermione was in too much shock to cry. She left her flat to move back in with her dad, and two months to the day after he told her the news he died at home, in his own bed, with his chocolate lab, Heathcliff, on the edge of the bed, and his orange cat Oscar on the pillow beside him.

Harry and Ron were with her when it happened. She didn't cry until the Hospice nurse left, and they came and removed the body. Then that night, all alone in her childhood bedroom, she sat on the floor by her bed, held a picture of parents on their wedding day, and she started to weep.

Ron walked in the room and finally sat beside her, wrapping his arms around her. Sometime later, she couldn't tell when, he picked her up and put her on the little bed that was the bed she had spent so many nights upon when she was young. He stayed with her, lying on one side of her. Harry came in the room and lay down on the other side.

That night she dreamt of both her mum and dad. In the morning she woke up and cried some more.

Now she could think of them without crying. Memories of them were still bittersweet, but mostly they were kind. Her parents were gone, but the recollections of them were still there and would live on forever.

She took comfort in that thought.

Draco walked by her and smiled. "Are you almost ready, Granger?" he asked.

Was she? Was she almost ready? Ready for what, she wondered.

She took a step back from the curtains, letting the edge close as her hand fell away from the fabric. Numbly, she nodded yes, as outwardly she tried to remember the second verse of the song…

_All these places have their moments,_

_With lovers and friends, _

_I still can recall,_

_Some are dead and some are living,_

_In my life, I've loved them all._

Sitting on a crate that littered the edge of the stage area, Hermione thought about the men she had loved. It was a short list, beginning with Ron Weasley. Hermione Granger loved Ron Weasley the very first moment she set eyes upon him. She saw him on the platform with his family as he was about to embark on the train the very first day she was to leave for Hogwarts. Of course, she was early, so she was already inside the train. She recalled that she looked out the window, saw all the ginger-haired people standing around this one small boy, and she knew they had to be his family.

Furthermore, she knew they had to be part of HER family someday too. She always wanted to be part of a big family.

Later, after the train started moving, she walked around trying to find him. She spied him in a car with Harry Potter. Ronald had a smudge of dirt on his nose. She couldn't help but to tell him about it – after all, she didn't think he would want to go around with a smudge of dirt on his nose.

They were sorted into the same house. Hermione was thrilled. She thought she might be sorted into Ravenclaw. Having already read, _Hogwarts, __a __History_, many times, she knew that all of the brightest students were sorted into Ravenclaw; so naturally, she assumed she would be sorted into that house. However, when she sat down upon the stool to be sorted she saw all those ginger-haired people sitting at the Gryffindor table and suddenly it was imperative that SHE be sorted into Gryffindor too! She wished it to be so, and was elated when the sorting hat said, "GRYFFINDOR" loud as could be!

At first, Ron wasn't very friendly to her, but eventually they all became friends. Over the years, she and Ron became so much more. Even though she had loved him from the time she was twelve, she knew he was slower in returning his feelings to her. He didn't start to reciprocate her feelings until somewhere around age 14 or 15.

They finally kissed right after they destroyed the cup Horcrux during the final battle. It seemed fitting and it was a glorious and wonderful first kiss! All of her girlhood fantasies were brought to life in that one first, amazing, toe-curling kiss!

They started dating openly after that. A few years later, they made love for the first time while Hermione was at University and Ron was at Auror training. It was terribly sweet and romantic. He was shy, careful, and attentive. Ron was her first love and he would always be special to her.

Looking back on her life, she thought of other people whom she had lost, and who were special to her…people like Sirius, Tonks, and Lupin. Although she was never as close to Sirius as Harry was, she was incredibly close to Lupin. He was a kind, gentle, and hopelessly tortured soul, who found a true soul mate in Tonks.

And they all died fighting in a senseless war – a war of good verses evil.

Ron's brother Fred died, too. Happy as a lark Fred. He always made everyone laugh, and when he died, he left a hole in the entire Weasley family. He left a hole inside of Hermione - a hole that would never be filled. She wondered when she died if she would leave a hole inside other people's hearts? Would her life mean as much to others as some of these people's lives had meant to her?

Standing from the crate, she watched as Blaise and Theo walked toward her. When Blaise and Draco came down to find Hermione and Theo last night (while they were in Theo's back garden) and told her of this plan, she was at first excited, then nervous, now she was a bit chagrined.

Because she didn't want to do this task this way! She wanted more time to prepare! Blaise was meant to help her, guide her, and teach her! Instead he merely arranged for a large audience to attend his little pureblood club tonight, in anticipation of hearing 'Hermione Granger sing'. More likely, in anticipation of hearing Hermione Granger make a fool of herself.

To top it off, it was Greg Goyle's birthday, and Marcus told her a few minutes ago that Greg was sitting front and center! What if she forgot the words? What if she missed a note? What if her voice cracked? Greg Goyle would be the very first one to laugh at her guffaw, point at her, and make her feel like a fool.

Furthermore, she wasn't so certain this was the best song for her to sing! This song made her feel morose and intensely emotional. It was private and sad. It made her THINK of her life. It made her life pass before her eyes, and at a time like now, she wasn't sure that was the best thing for her. Still, Theo had picked the song and was going to accompany her on the piano.

Clenching her hands into fists as Adrian walked by, he kissed her cheek and said, "Break a leg, sweetheart. It's almost time," and then he walked away. She watched him walk off the stage, feeling rather annoyed at him.

Hell, she knew it was almost time…in more ways than one.

And what was that last verse? She couldn't recall that last verse…

_But of all these friends and lovers,_

_There was no one, _

_Compares with you._

_And these memories lose their meaning,_

_When I think of love,_

_As something new._

Swallowing the feeling of nausea that swept over her, she looked over to the side at Blaise and Theo. Theo was sitting at a black upright piano, toiling around with the sheet music (she hoped the music to this song) as Blaise stood behind him. Blaise placed a hand on Theo's shoulder.

Truly, unlike the song, Hermione couldn't say she had had many friends in her life, for she had only had a few. Harry and Ron being her closest and oldest, the Vipers being her newest and most intense. Likewise, she couldn't say she had many lovers. Until she discovered she only had six months to live and had come to live with the Vipers, she could have counted her lovers on one hand. Now she could safely use two. That thought made her smile.

She wasn't sure she would trade the last couple of months for anything in the world. She wouldn't even trade them for a cure or anti-curse. Because in the last couple of months she had finally known what it was like to have more than two friends. She finally found out what it meant to _have an influence_ on other people's lives, instead of _feeling the influence_ of other people's lives on her own.

More importantly, she finally knew what it was like to have more than one love, and even if she did die when all of this was said and done, at least she could say she died happy. She died loving…and loved. That was a daunting yet exciting thought.

_Though I know, I'll never lose affection,_

_For people and things,_

_That went before,_

_You know I've often stop to think about them,_

_In my life, I've loved you more._

_In my life…I've loved you more._

And looking over at Blaise and Theo she had one last undeniable and clarifying, final thought. One might even call it an epiphany. She loved two men. Well, she loved five men in many ways, but she was** in love** with two of them.

"It's time," Theo told her from his place over at the piano.

She smiled as she took center stage. Not a bad place for her life to end - not at all.


	34. Chapter 34 Something

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 34 – Something**

…_You're asking me will my love grow,_

_I don't know, I don't know._

_You stick around and it may show,_

_But I don't know, I don't know…_

_Sometimes_, it still amazed Theo Nott to know that he could place his hands on the piano, touch different keys, and music would come forth. To him, it was nothing short of a miracle. Sometimes he didn't even realize that it was him that was making the music. Sometimes he thought it was coming from somewhere else, and his hands were just the conduit. Perhaps his hands weren't even the conduit…perhaps the music was coming from somewhere else, such as his heart, or his head, or his blood.

_Somehow_, it didn't matter where the music came from, it only mattered that it was there for him in times of trouble and times of happiness. Today, he wasn't certain which emotion the music was communicating – happiness or sorrow – he only knew it WAS.

_Somewhere_, deep in his heart, he wished he could write his own music, but he wasn't sensitive enough for that. It wasn't as if he hadn't tried before, for he had, and he'd failed. Well, no, he hadn't failed. He could produced notes on pages that were original, and he could put words with them, but somehow those words and notes never quite made sense together. And he was too afraid to share it with anyone, so instead, he preferred to play the music of others. He loved classical music the best, but right now, he was trying to memorize all of the music of the Beatles.

'_Something'_ was a song written by George Harrison. Hermione told him that George Harrison was known as 'the quiet Beatle'. Theo thought that was apropos, because he was often thought of as the 'quiet Viper'. There was something about the song, 'Something' that touched Theo, deeper than any of the Lennon/McCartney Beatles Songs that he had previously learned.

_Someday,_ he might play it for Hermione. She might like that. Someday, he might finally find the 'voice' to tell her how much she had changed his life. He might finally be able to SHOW her his love for her, instead of just tell her how much he loved her. Someday, he might be able to look Blaise in the eye and tell him that, too. Could he ever be brave enough to show Blaise his feelings? He wondered about that.

_Someone_ said that Hermione's curse would soon be broken thanks to Theo and Blaise, but that was a lot of pressure to put on Theo, and besides, Theo wasn't so sure of that anyway. It was true that last night, after Hermione sang at Blaise's club, she walked off the stage and she threw herself into Theo's arms and told him that she loved him, and then she hugged Blaise and told him that she loved him, too. Later that night, Blaise placed his arm around Theo as the other Vipers were laughing at Greg Goyle (when he blew out his birthday candles in his clown suit) and Blaise said, "You know I love you, Theo." And Marcus overheard, and then he told Draco, who told Adrian, who then made that fateful comment…that Hermione's curse would soon be broken.

_Somewhat_ skeptical, Theo wasn't so sure. There had to be more to it than that. There had to be more than just Hermione realizing that she loved Theo and Blaise. There had to be more than just Blaise saying he loved Theo and Hermione. There had to be more than just Theo realizing that he loved Hermione, and might be in love with his best friend Blaise, too.

There had to be SOMETHING more.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_Something_ drew Blaise upstairs to Theo's bedroom. It might have been the song that Theo was playing. Blaise stood in the doorway of Theo's bedroom listening to him play another Beatles song, and by now, Blaise had them all memorized. This one was by George Harrison. It was called 'Something'. Blaise thought that it was a perfect song for Theo to be playing, because it was apparent that _**something**_ was bothering Theo again. Blaise could always tell.

Theo seemed alright last night at the club. At Greg's party, they all had so much fun. The little cub sang her song, (with such a pretty voice, by the way) and though it was a trifle sad, and she cried toward the end, it was beautiful. Theo accompanied her on the piano and everything seemed to happen as they planned.

It was worth everything in the world to see the look on Hermione's face when she saw Greg Goyle sitting in the crowd in a clown costume at the end of her song! Give that one to Draco Malfoy! He told Goyle that his birthday party was a costume party, and then he somehow convinced the overweight man to come dressed as a clown! THEN, he made the man wait to sit down in the dining room until 'the entertainment' (aka – Granger) was on the stage.

By that time, the only light was on her, and the dining room was dark, so Goyle couldn't see that he was the only one dressed in costume. Granger sang her sad little song about 'her life', accompanied by the one and only wonderful Theo Nott, and then when she was done, the lights came on in the dining room, and there was Greg Goyle, sitting at the center table, in a clown costume…red curly wig, big shoes, red nose, polka-dot tie! The audience applauded, then noticed Goyle, so they started to laugh, at which point Granger screamed. Goyle stood up, and he screamed, too – a stream of curses right at Draco Malfoy.

Hermione ran off the stage, straight into Blaise's arms! Goyle ran backstage and tried to hex Draco Malfoy, who was running around the backstage area, dodging behind people, yelling at Goyle, "You did it for Granger! She wanted you to do it! It was for her!"

Meanwhile, Hermione was crying literal tears, hugging Blaise tightly, saying things like, "Don't let the evil clown get me!"

All of the Vipers were laughing so hard that they couldn't stop. Finally, Greg stopped behind Hermione, and he said, "I'm not an evil clown, Granger. It's just me, Greg Goyle."

At which point she turned her head slowly, and she laughed. She laughed. Then she reached out and tweaked his red, bulbous nose. "I'm sorry, Greg. This wasn't my idea, I swear it wasn't," she told him.

"Malfoy told me it was a costume party," Greg said sheepishly. "My own birthday…and it's ruined."

"Not necessarily," she offered. "You can change."

"I don't have anything on under here," he said.

Most of the Vipers made strange faces at that comment, but Hermione, ever the smart girl, offered to transfigure his clown suit into a right fine looking piece of men's clothing. He refused. He said if it was for her, he would wear the clown suit all night, but only if Malfoy wore the nose. So Granger forced Draco to wear the red nose the rest of the night.

Thinking of it now, Blaise still smiled. So he wondered…if he was smiling, remembering last night, why was Theo frowning? True, Theo was concentrating on his music, but that shouldn't make him frown.

Perhaps it was because Blaise told him he loved him again last night. Perhaps it was too soon for that. Maybe Theo and the little cub should get all of their feelings sorted first…their ducks in a row…before he continued to declare his feelings toward Theo.

"May I interrupt?" Blaise asked from the doorway.

Theo continued to play, either unaware his friend was there, or giving his answer of 'no, you may not interrupt' by continuing to play.

Blaise walked into the room anyway. He stood behind Theo's piano bench and placed one large hand on Theo's shoulder. Theo continued to play until the song was done. Then he sighed. Looking upward at his friend, he said, "I didn't notice you were here."

"Ah," Blaise regarded. "That answered that. I thought you were ignoring me. May I speak to you for a moment?"

"Of course." Theo turned around on the bench.

"Why do you keep your piano up in your room? You have enough rooms in this house to have a music room." That thought just occurred to Blaise, so he asked it.

Theo turned back around on the bench, closed the lid over the keys, and then moved his right hand slowly over the black lacquer wood of the lid. "I keep the piano up here, because when I was a kid, I always had to keep my piano in my room, so I suppose this is where I'm used to having it. It never dawned on me to have it anywhere else."

Blaise placed his hands back on Theo's shoulders. "You can put the piano anywhere you please, now, you know. I could help you fix up one of the spare bedrooms on the second floor into a right fine music room."

Theo hung his head. "I know."

"Your father and mother no longer dictate what you do," Blaise continued, moving his hands gently upon Theo's shoulders.

Theo breathed in, then exhaled long and slow. Blaise's hands were feathery soft upon his shoulders, gliding across the soft, white cotton of his t-shirt, down between his shoulder blades, back up around to his shoulders, down to his bare arms. Raising his head, he moved his neck to the side. "That feels nice. My shoulders and neck always ache when I'm at the piano for very long."

Blaise continued to work his hands over Theo's shoulders and arms. "Tell me if it hurts you."

"No…no, it feels great," Theo relayed.

Blaise's hands were now on Theo's neck, and his nimble fingers were up under Theo's long hair, on the nape of his neck, index fingers coming around to the front of his neck, to his jaw, under his ears. He was being so gentle, touching him with such concern and care. It had been so long since anyone had shown Theo such concern and care. So terribly long.

As Blaise moved his fingers over Theo's collarbone, Theo said, "Was there something you wanted to ask me?" Blaise leaned closer, his chest touching the back of Theo's head, his fingers now moving over Theo's chest on the outside of Theo's shirt.

Theo looked up.

Blaise looked down.

One of Blaise's fingers brushed over Theo's nipple and Theo closed his eyes. He brought his hand up to cover Blaise's hand, to still it on his chest, even as Blaise's other hand came up to cup Theo's chin, to tilt back his head, so his mouth could come down to swoop over his, swiftly, softly, almost as if it didn't happen.

To kiss him.

But it did happen.

Theo moved away from the piano and Blaise so quickly that it surprised even him.

Blaise held up both hands, as if in surrender, and said, "Theo." That's all he said…just his name…even as his brain was saying… _"Stop it, stop it, stop it, and I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." _Inside Blaise was cursing himself, telling himself that it was too soon for that…too soon, too soon.

Theo looked around the room wildly, and with his chest heaving, he said, "I just wasn't expecting that, that's all."

Blaise walked closer and said, "What did you expect when I said that I was in love with you?"

Theo looked at him blankly, shaking his head slightly.

Blaise reached out and took Theo's hand, pulling him toward him. Then he said, "It's alright, we'll go slow. It's alright, really, it is, Theo, as long as we know how we feel, that's all that matters. Let's go upstairs and help Hermione. I think she needs help baking, alright?"

_Somehow,_ Theo wasn't so sure that Hermione had time for them to take it slow.

_Something_ about baking almost made Hermione feel relaxed and happy. It was almost like a precise science, akin to potion making. Measuring out a bit more flour, then a bit more sugar, Hermione placed them in the bowl with the eggs and baking soda. Adding a pinch of salt, then a level teaspoon of vanilla extract, she bent down at the waist to read the rest of the instructions for the recipe in the old cookbook on her table.

"What goes in next?" Blaise asked from his chair at the table.

"The brown sugar," Theo read, from his chair next to Blaise.

Hermione took the brown sugar from Theo and suggested, "Will you both just let me do it? This is worse than baking with Harry and Ron!"

Blaise blew a handful of flour at Theo and said, "You're worse than Harry and Ron!"

Theo brushed the flour off his t-shirt and complained, "I think she was comparing both of us to them! Give me that wooden spoon! It'll have to be sanitized now!"

Blaise had taken the wooden spoon and was teasing the kitten with it. As soon as Theo made the comment about sanitizing it, Blaise licked it and then put it in the bowl with the batter.

"That's disgusting!" Theo harped.

Blaise just laughed.

Hermione decided to ignore them both.

Opening her door without consent, Draco Malfoy spied them all just as Hermione was beating ingredients with the same wooden spoon that he had just seen Blaise lick with his tongue. Angling his head to the right, while his body rested on the doorjamb, he asked, "What in the name of Merlin are you doing, Granger?"

"Baking," she answered without looking at him.

Draco remained where he was, smirked, (although he was painfully aware he was wasting a perfectly good smirk, because no one was looking at him) and then he asked, "Why?"

"Because," she answered succinctly.

"Hmm." He walked in the door and shut it tightly with the heel of his boot. "That explains it all. What are these two fools doing here?" he asked.

"We're baking, too," Blaise said with a grin.

"No, I'm baking, he's being a general pain in Hermione's arse," Theo revised.

"Hand me that tray, won't you?" she asked, pointing toward the countertop with her chin.

Draco wondered if she was asking HIM to hand her the tray? Walked toward the counter, he picked up a metal baking sheet, held it in one hand, transferred it to the other, and then placed it on the table.

"Seriously," he asked again, "what are you doing?"

"Draco," she said with almost a sigh, while still beating the batter without mercy, "I'm baking, you moron."

Shaking his head, he sat down at the small round table, looked at the other two men, and then said, "Be that as it may, do you want to know why I'm here?"

"Not really," she replied honestly. She sat the bowl back on the table and picked up a small spoon then placed a dollop of batter onto the metal baking tray.

"I'm here," he trudged onward, "to tell you about your next task."

"Whatever," she said absentmindedly. After the tray was filled with dollops of batter precisely the size of gold coins, she picked up her wand. With a simple flick of her wand, the tray floated into her oven, onto the top rack, just as another tray that was on the lower rack of the oven floated out of the oven, coming to rest upon a trivet on the top of her stove.

"You really are baking," Draco said, astonished.

"Draco Malfoy, just get on with why you're here," she said, smiling now.

"First, wasn't it funny about Goyle showing up at his own birthday party in a clown suit?" Draco asked with a wicked grin. Then he began to laugh, which caused Blaise and Theo to laugh. Even Hermione tried to hide her smile behind her hand.

She took her oven mitt and hit him on the arm twice. "I thought that was terrible of you boys to trick him like that!" she chastised.

Draco continued to laugh as he said, "It was brilliant and you know it. It was also all my idea, so I get all the credit. Seriously, how else were you to get over your fear of clowns, and it crossed off two tasks at once!"

"It was his idea!" Blaise concurred, "So if you're angry, blame him, if you liked it, well, blame him, too."

"I was scared to pieces!" she exclaimed. "When the lights came on I screamed!"

"Like a little Gryffindor!" Draco supplied, while Theo and Blaise laughed some more.

Hermione walked over to Draco and hit him on the head with her oven mitt this time, harder than when she hit him on the arm moments before. "I have a worst fear of clowns now, Idiot!" she screamed, hitting him repeatedly.

He placed his hands up to his head to defend himself, saying, "Watch the hair, Granger, always watch the hair!"

Finally, Draco grabbed the oven mitt from her and threw it across the room. "That's a lethal weapon with the likes of you!"

Hermione used her wand to retrieve the oven mitt and then she said, "Just tell me why you're here."

"Dancing lessons, Granger."

She plopped onto her chair. "Please tell me you aren't going to be the one to give them to me. You'll be all randy with your hands."

"You bet I would," Draco said with a sly smile, "but alas, Mr. Pucey is the ponce that's going to give you waltzing lessons, and just in time for my big birthday celebration, on June the fifth, at the Manor. You're all invited, by the way."

Hermione frowned. "I don't want to go to the Manor."

Now Draco frowned. "But it's my birthday."

"No one denies Draco's wishes on his birthday, Granger, it just isn't done," Blaise mocked.

"If he wants a Mudblood for his birthday, his mummy and daddy will just find him another one," Theo teased.

Draco banged his hand on the table and said, "I'm not that spoiled, and I want HER there, not just any Mudblood! Now, you have six days to learn to waltz. Adrian said your first lesson is tomorrow. My birthday is the fifth of June. See you there."

Draco started out the door and Hermione said, "I really can't come, Draco."

Draco growled, then turned around slowly. "Why, do you have a prior engagement? I thought the whole point of everything was for you to complete all your tasks! Learning to waltz is completing one of your tasks!"

She walked up to him, stood nose to nose, and said, "And so I shall, but coming to the Manor, to a pompous, pureblood birthday bash, isn't on my list, and I don't intend to go, even if it is your birthday. I don't have much time left, and the time I have left I intend to do what I want to do."

Theo sucked in a deep breath at that statement and looked directly at Blaise, who stared back at Theo.

"Come now, Granger," Draco drawled, "We all know that you have a tidy little triad going on, with these two here, so there's no real danger of you dying now, so why keep up the pretense?"

Hermione sucked in a deep breath, as if she'd been struck.

Theo stood and said, "Draco, that's out of line, and frankly, we don't know anything of the sort! We don't even know if that anti-curse exist. Adrian hasn't been able to prove it, or even find the tome in which he supposedly first found it."

Blaise came to stand before Theo. "And whatever feelings are going on between myself, Theo and Hermione are BETWEEN ME, Theo and Hermione, understand?"

"Right, right, I understand," Draco sneered. "Once again, I'm the odd man out, so that's just great, wonderful. I'm happy and overjoyed." Draco took the tray of biscuits that had just come out of the oven and he hit them with the palm of his hand, causing them to fly all over the kitchen, then he ran out of the room.

"Bloody, fucking wanker," Blaise seethed.

Theo shook his head.

Hermione ran after Draco. She caught him outside her door, right before he Disapparated away. "Wait, please," she said. "I want to explain."

"Then come with me," he said, taking her hand and Disapparating her away with him.

Theo looked out the open door and said, "I can't believe it, but he took her with him."

Blaise placed one hand on Theo's back, looked out the door and repeated, "Bloody, fucking wanker."


	35. Chapter 35 I'm Happy Just to Dance w You

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 35 – I'm Happy Just to Dance with You**

**_Whoosh._ **

_Everything sounded as if she were in a long tunnel. Her eyes felt gritty, covered with grains of sand. Her limbs heavy, filled with lead. She couldn't move. It occurred to her that she might be dead – except it was too soon. Wasn't it too soon?_

_**Whoosh.**_

_Then there was that odd noise again - a sort of 'whooshing' noise in her ears, or perhaps only in her brain. She thought she might hear voices. Yes, she definitely heard voices, except she couldn't respond to them if she tried._

"Hermione love, wake up."

_A cold hand was upon her cheek. She was oddly aware of her surroundings, yet she didn't quite know where she was. It was a bit scary, even though she knew the voices of the people around her now._

"What did you do to her?"

"I didn't do anything! I Disapparated with her here, and then this happened, and then I called all of you!"

"Little cub? Little cub. Wake up, sweetheart, wake up."

_Another hand was now stroking her head. It felt rather nice. Perhaps she would keep her eyes closed. It reminded her of when she was young and her mother used to stroke her head when she had a fever as a child._

"Granger? Wake up right now. This isn't even remotely funny!"

"Is she breathing?"

"Granger? Please wake up!"

"See if she's breathing, or if she has a pulse."

_Someone was feeling for a pulse on her wrist and now on her neck. She wanted to swat their hand away but couldn't. How silly of them. Of course, she had a pulse. She was thinking wasn't she? Of course, they didn't know she was thinking_. _She definitely needed to try to open her eyes._

"Here, move aside. Theo's here now. He'll know what to do," a familiar voice echoed.

_A gentle pair of hands framed her face, as she lay upon something wickedly soft. Turning her head slightly, the gentle hands moved their thumbs simultaneously and then the voice of a man whom Hermione had recently begun to consider as more than an object of mere affection said some sort of incantation._

"What was that?" a man with a deeper voice asked. "Was that a healing spell of some sort?"

"Sh, quiet for a moment, Marcus," the man said. He moved to sit beside her, his hands still on her face. "She's in some sort of stasis. She's awake and aware, and yet she's not." Theo looked up at Draco. "Tell us exactly what happened."

Theo, Blaise, Marcus and Adrian all looked up at Draco, who stood in the middle of his mother and father. Draco growled lowly in his chest, but then sighed. Knowing his parents would support him, he was about to spout off, "I didn't do anything."

However, he was man, so he would be truthful and stand up for what he had done, right or wrong. He had Disapparated with her without telling her, and he had taken her directly to the main Apparition point at the Manor without thinking. If he had thought…or considered her feelings, (as he had the night in the graveyard) he would have Apparated them somewhere else into the Manor, but instead he Apparated them directly into the Manor's parlor, right to the very spot where she almost lost her life when she was a girl.

She stood only a moment after Apparition, then swooned on the spot, falling onto the floor. Draco didn't even have time to catch her. He called for an elf to find his mother and father. Then he told his mother to find all his friends as he hefted her into his arms to place her on one of the many sofas.

Adrian arrived first. He wanted to take her directly to St. Mungo's. Marcus was right behind him. He had the forethought to take her out of the parlor (why hadn't the rest of them thought of that?) and place her in one of the guestrooms.

Blaise arrived a few minutes later, saying Theo was right behind him. Then Theo arrived, touched her face, said some sort of incantation, announced that she wasn't hurt, only unconscious, and that he could bring her back.

Theo used some sort of silent Leglimency to delve into her mind. He could tell that she was aware of everyone and everything. He told everyone that her mind was protecting itself, and her body, by shutting itself down somehow, because of the past trauma from the Manor, and because of the present doom looming over her.

"What can we do?" Marcus asked.

Before anyone answered, Adrian turned to Draco and asked, "Why did you bring her here?"

Draco felt all eyes upon him. If he said, 'for waltzing lessons,' he would seem like such a fool. That would be a lie, anyway. Looking down at the pattern on the rug at his feet he stammered, "I thought the library here might have the answers we need to cure her. I thought we might find a counter-curse here, and truthfully, I thought my father might be of help, since he's an expert on the Dark Arts."

No one said anything, so he looked up and concluded, "After all, every book on Dark Magic ever written is in the library here at the Manor, so wouldn't it stand to reason that we might find the counter-curse?"

"We know the counter-curse," said Marcus. "The Triad."

"Really? Do we?" Draco countered. "Because it seems to me that we're taking an awful big chance on merely your word, Adrian." He turned to look at the man standing next to Marcus. "And what if you're wrong? Or what if there's another counter-curse?"

He started walking around the room, his hand out plaintively, and he pleaded, "Are we all willing to wait until September to see if it works? I mean, I'm not! Just because Blaise, Theo, and Granger are a happy little trio now doesn't mean she's all cured and everything and no matter what any of you say, I know her better than any of you know her! I spent more time teasing and tormenting her than any of you, growing up, and I know she's still worried! She's not convinced she's cured yet! She's not acting like Hermione Granger is supposed to act!"

"I think I know Hermione, Malfoy," Adrian leveled, walking closer to his friend.

Theo left her bedside to go stand near the other men, who were now all in a circle around the end of the bed. Draco's mother and father stood off to the side, waiting, watching, and listening.

"No, you really don't!" Draco spat. "Did you know I've been in contact with Potter? He even agrees with me. The Hermione Granger we both knew growing up…he loved, I hated, wouldn't be going around baking fucking biscuits and being all benign and resigned to her fate, flitting around happy as a little clam! She'd be out there doing something to ensure that she was going to be alive come September!"

Marcus stepped around to Draco's right and explained, "But she did that for six whole months, Malfoy, and it got her nowhere. For six months, she went to every Wizarding library in Great Britain and the continent, and she visited well-known wizards. She even went back to South America. She tried to find the counter-curse, and she found nothing concrete! So now she wants to live the last six months the way she wants, and who are we to question that?"

"But don't you see?" Blaise said, agreeing with Draco. "That's just it; she didn't visit every Wizarding library. That's what Draco's trying to say. She didn't go to Hogwarts, which is where Adrian purportedly saw this book as a kid, and she didn't come here! And frankly, if she is hypothetically already cured by our love, or whatever shite that is, then why is she still acting out the tasks from her list? Why isn't she back to her normal life, going to work each day, doing the mundane?"

Blaise turned to look at the woman on the bed, then back at his friends. "That's been bothering me." He sat on the foot of the bed, hung his head and said, "She must not believe she's cured either. She still thinks she's going to die come September."

"Then we'll go to Hogwarts and find that book Adrian knows about and prove it to her," Marcus relayed. "It's so simple, I'm curious as to why no one thought of that in the first place."

All eyes went to Adrian.

Theo asked, "Why didn't anyone think of that in the first place?"

Adrian took a deep breath. "I lied about the book."

A hushed silenced filled the room like a darkening echoed vacuum.

Draco finally turned to his parents and asked, "Mother, Father, do you mind leaving us alone for a moment?'

Lucius glared at Adrian, then turned to his son. "No using Unforgivable Curses before dinner, Son." Lucius took his wife's hand and removed them from the room.

The other four men stared at their oldest member, their revered leader, and no one said a thing. They waited for his explanation. He finally said, "I didn't mean to lie. I did see a book about the Peruvian curse at Hogwarts when I was a kid, and it was in the Restricted Section, and when we were called to investigate that cave, I remembered the book I read, and the curse, and somehow I got the counter-curse of another curse mumbled in my head with this curse."

"What?" Theo asked hoarsely, almost in a whisper.

"The triad love…it's a counter-curse to another curse, but not the Peruvian curse on that cave," Adrian admitted. After a continued silence in the room, Adrian said, "But that doesn't mean that I still don't think all of this will save her. I know the cure is a counter-curse to a curse by the same dark wizard!"

"But how will all of this save her?" Marcus asked, stepping closer.

"Listen mates! I did go to Hogwarts. Potter went with me. We went to the Restricted Section and saw the book on the Peruvian curse on the cave. An evil, dark wizard, who also placed curses on many other objects, placed the curse on it. I do know his name; it was Thomas Connell, although I've never seen his name mentioned in any other books."

"Although we couldn't find the counter-curse in that book, I absolutely know that I read of the counter-curse somewhere before, I just can't remember where, or exactly what it entails. I also know that this counter-curse, the Triad love, is the cure to another curse that this wizard made, so I thought it might save her."

"But why do you assume a triad will cure her of this curse?" Draco pleaded.

Adrian looked over at the bed, then back at his friends and said with a lamenting shrug, "It won't hurt."

That was when one of the men pulled back his fist and punched him right in the face.

When Hermione finally woke, she opened her eyes slowly. She found she was in a bed, next to Adrian Pucey. He was on his side, facing her. She turned to her side and then reached over with her finger and traced his newly formed bruise lightly over his skin, on his cheek, over his eye, around his eyebrow. It was already blue, black, and purple.

Adrian opened his eyes.

"Hi," she said.

"You're awake," he replied.

"So are you. You have a hell of a black eye. Who did it?"

"Marcus. He has a bad habit of hitting me lately. He's supposed to be my best friend, but there you go." He reached over and stroked her hair. "How are you feeling?"

"Better. I need to go to the toilet, and I'm thirsty. Are we still at the Manor?" She continued to touch his face, but not only his bruise. She was now tracing the little frown lines around his eyes and mouth.

"Yep. The lads are all down in the Library," he answered, his hand going up to capture hers.

"Are they trying to find a counter-curse?" she asked, pulling her hand free as she sat up on the bed.

He sat beside her. "How did you know?"

"I heard everything," she admitted. "I couldn't open my eyes, and I really did fall asleep or something, just before I woke up, but in the beginning I was awake. I merely couldn't open my eyes." She turned to look at him, her hands tightly clasped on her lap. "For the briefest moment I thought I was dead. It was scary."

He reached over for one of her hands, pulling it free from the other. "I bet."

There was silence in the room for a long time, with the pair sitting just as they were, Adrian holding Hermione's hand in both of his, stealing glances her way every few seconds, and Hermione looking down at the bedspread before her.

"Are you angry that I lied about the counter-curse?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I think I knew all along. I knew the wizard's name who cursed the cave. I knew all about the other counter-curse and everything. I'm pretty smart."

He laughed. "That you are." He dropped her hand and stood up, brushing off his trousers. "You were baking I hear."

She stood and ran her fingers through her hair. "Yes. I was making biscuits the way my granny used to bake them for Christmas, because I wanted to have Christmas early, since I won't be alive for it. Silly, huh?"

She looked up in time to see him wince. Walking over to him, she pulled on one of his arms. He caught her gaze and she said, "I was joking. I was merely baking. Where's the loo?"

He doubted her claims of joking, but pointed to a door over his shoulder. Stepping around him, she walked over to the door and disappeared inside. Using his wand, he straightened the bed linens and then opened the drapes in the room to let in more light. Walking over to the fireplace, he spied a music box and smiled.

Hermione walked out of the bathroom and said, "Will you take me home, Adrian?"

"No," he said, shaking his head. He held out his hand for her.

She looked at his hand, then at his face, puzzled.

"Malfoy brought you here to learn to waltz, so we're going to learn to waltz, Miss Hermione. That last time I tried to teach you at that Christmas party you clomped all over my feet." He smiled and reached down for her hand.

She smiled in return and said, "Is clomped the right word to use? I would have used 'stamped' or 'stomped' but yes, I guess I did, but they are such big feet. They should have gotten you to play the clown, instead of Goyle. You wouldn't have had to wear clown shoes."

"You know what they say about men with big feet, Hermione," he leered proudly, cocking one eyebrow in the air.

She feigned an air of indifference, sighed and said, "What? That they have to buy big shoes?"

His chest rumbled with silent laughter as he pulled her into his arms. Then with a nod of his head, music started playing from the music box on the mantle.

"Hmm, silent magic. I approve, and am properly impressed," Hermione praised, relaxing in his arms.

"You should be," he smiled. "It's a requirement of our job. Now, shall I teach you the waltz?"

"Fine, but tell me, fine sir," she started, "where did you little pureblood boys go to learn such ancient oddities as the waltz in these modern times?"

He laughed again, pulling her closer, realizing how sweet and fragile she was in his arms. It made him yearn for something he would never have. A pang of regret followed this as he answered, "Waltzing is a must for all young purebloods, and we took lessons in primary school, along with etiquette lessons, and fencing and such. Now, are you ready?"

"I love to learn," she joked. "Teach me."

With the music still swirling around them, he had one of his hands on her back, high enough not to be improper, and his other hand held her hand lightly. Looking down into her face, he said, "The man holds his partner just so, clasping one hand lightly in his, the other hand on her back. It's daring if she has a bit skin showing, and his hand is on bare skin."

She laughed, enjoying herself. "Too bad I have on a t-shirt."

"We could take it off," he jested.

"Now you sound like Malfoy," she mocked.

"Enough with the insults, I'm trying to teach you here," he muttered. "The grasp must be firm and steady, so the man can glide his partner effortlessly across the floor."

She asked, "How close do we stand?"

"Ah, well, there's the rub, Hermione," he said thickly. "If the man and woman are intimates, they stand very close. The waltz was the first dance where the man and woman stood face to face for any length of time, and when it first came out, a proper distance was always maintained. But in these modern times, the partners can stand closer, almost as if they are lovers, even if they aren't."

He started to move with her, and she followed his lead effortlessly. "But if you hold me too closely, my movement is restricted, isn't it?"

"But if I don't hold you close, you won't know which way to go. I have to hold you just right, to give you the proper support," he said with a smile.

She concentrated on his verbal instructions at first, 'move your left foot back, glide over, move your right foot up, glide up'. He moved easily, his hand on her back a constant support, their clasped hands never wavering.

Soon, they were waltzing across the floor, around the bed, throughout the entire guestroom. Hermione laughed, her eyes glowed, she smiled up at him with rosy-cheeks, and a happy gaze that made his heart soar with delight. It also slightly broke his heart, for he was acutely aware of the envy that he felt because that smile was merely a friendly smile, only there because of her happiness in the moment.

He wanted to love her, and have her love him back. That thought hit him so hard that he almost stumbled, and she joked that now he was the one with two left feet. He quickly recovered his footing, but the sensation of want and desire remained with him, along with the empty, hollow ache deep inside.

Blaise told him the night before that Draco admitted to loving her. At the time, Adrian didn't know what to make of that news. He figured that Draco was merely jealous of the fact that Blaise and Theo had her. Now he wasn't so sure, because this wasn't the first time that he thought that he might love her, too.

Though he didn't have the right to love her. Waltzing with her, having her in his arms, he realized that. He didn't have the right to kiss her, caress her, hold her, or give her what she wanted or needed. He had brought this curse upon her head. In his heart, he knew she would never forgive him for that.

The only right he had was to cure her.

The music ended but Adrian didn't want to release her. She stopped moving, as did he. He tried to release her, he really did, his arms wouldn't move. Her chest was against his, and his arms moved to wrap securely around her body. Her rapid breathing pushed her breasts up so that he felt the softness of them seared against the fabric of his shirt, through to his chest.

A sigh escaped his lips, and he bent his head and captured her mouth for a swift kiss. It was over too quickly and he released her. Turning toward the bed, he stared at it with self-loathing. He wanted to drag her to this bed, push her onto it, drop down on her, and push his way into her warm heat. He knew what it felt like to have her beneath him and it was heaven, but it was also only a memory. It was all he would ever have.

Just once.

Only once.

A small hand touched his arm, and it was as if she threw him a raft, saving him from drowning. He looked at that hand and then over his shoulder at her face.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

He could only nod.

"Is the lesson over?" Hermione asked.

Adrian turned to her, a bit dazed, a bit confused. "You waltz well. You learn everything well. I think I'll take you home and then join the Vipers. Lucius gave us free reign over his library."

"To find a cure?"

He nodded.

"Then what are we waiting for? Let's go." She held out her hand.

He took her hand in his again. He might not have many more chances to have her hand in his, so he might as well enjoy it while he may.

Walking out of the door of the guestroom, down the long corridor to the library, she said, "One more task completed, right Adrian? I have one more task completed with my waltzing lesson. Soon my list will be complete."

Adrian swallowed the knot in his throat and again could only nod in agreement, pulling her along after him, hand-in-hand toward the library. Yes, one more task completed. It was almost completed. It was almost over. It was almost done, one way or another.


	36. Chapter 36 All You Need is Love

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 36 – All You Need it Love (bumpa, dumpa, dum)**

All Hermione needed to feel better about her lot in life was a task to do, a means to do her task, and people around her to help her on her way. It also didn't hurt to have thousands of old books and parchments around her. She sighed and then inhaled deeply. There was nothing like the aroma of old parchment in the morning to get her blood tingling. Nothing came close to making Hermione feel as happy as she felt when she was surrounded by books except, perhaps, when she was sharing that experience with the people whom she loved.

For the last five days Hermione and the Vipers had been practically living in the Manor's enormous library searching for everything that they could on Thomas Connell and all (or any) of his dark curses. They went home each night to shower and sleep (and for her, to feed her cat, now permanently named Ringo) and then each morning they came back to the library to do more research.

It almost made her feel like 'the old' Hermione again. She felt useful. Needed. As if she had a purpose. Adrian was missing work to help her. Marcus was missing work AND was absent from Daphne to help her. Blaise was away from his nightclub, but Hermione didn't think that was a big hardship for him. Theo was away from his piano, which might have been hard on him, although she wasn't sure. Draco was in the bosom of his family – who were planning a big birthday party for him for the night after today, so he was happy as a clam to be here.

Hermione didn't mind being at the Manor as long as she didn't have to go anywhere near the main parlor, or Lucius or Narcissa.

And after five days of research, with an occasional dancing lesson thrown in to keep things lively, she finally found a small biography in an old book on Thomas Connell, the man who cursed the cave in Peru. All she needed was to tell the Vipers about the passage she found, oh – and she needed to make another list of tasks since they were close to finding a counter-curse.

So there she sat, all alone in a chair by the fireplace, with piles of books all around her, and she looked up at the men milling around the room. Biting her bottom lip to keep from smiling, she spied the five Vipers in various states of reading and research and she realized they were no longer doing this because she was their 'special project'. They were doing this for her. Because they loved her.

Every single one of them loved her.

And she loved them in return, each and every one of them, in one way or another.

How odd. She loved them all. Correction - she was IN love with them all. Still, she loved them differently, to be sure, but she knew in the deep recesses of her heart that she was IN love with each one of them. Her brain hadn't processed that concept yet, but her heart had already come to terms with it and was at peace with the notion.

If someone had told her months ago that she would have felt anything other than 'like to open disdain' for anymore than one or two of them, she would have laughed openly at that person. Now, months later, she was in love with five men, and she knew they were each in love with her, in different ways as well.

Did that make her debased? Was she wicked, perverse, or debauched for loving five men? She had already slept with four of them. That alone would make many people cringe and judge her as perverted. If she died at the end of this, and there was an afterlife, would she have to answer for this as a sin, or would she be heralded as a saint for her open heart full of love and joy?

She pushed the large book with the passage about Thomas Connell from her lap to the floor and looked across the room at Draco, who stood in the corner arguing with Marcus. Apparently they were fighting over the same book. Hermione silently laughed at the pair. What made these two argue more than the others? She wanted to know all of the Vipers' secrets.

Then she glanced over her right shoulder and she saw Adrian standing propped against a tall shelf, a book in his hand. His lips moved as he read. She did that sometimes, too. He was so smart, yet so bossy, judgmental and harsh sometimes – mostly on himself. Why was that? And there was a moment a few days ago, when he was teaching her the waltz, that she was certain he was going to kiss her, yet he didn't. He held back.

She didn't want him to hold back. She wanted him to kiss her. Sometimes she thought he was such an enigma – she couldn't figure him out. Other times she thought he was so much like her it was scary.

Tilting her head to the side, she swept her glare toward a table in the corner. Blaise was sitting in a chair, a large book open before him. Theo was leaning over his back, one hand on his shoulder. He was whispering something in the other man's ear. Blaise looked back at him and smiled, then nodded. These two men were obviously in love with each other, and in love with her, and she loved them back. If she was forced to pick only one to spend her lifetime with (short lifetime or long) it would be Theo, but why did she have to pick?

In some ways it was a familiar feeling; loving two men who loved each other, one in which she had felt all her life. She grew up loving both Harry and Ron, and they loved each other. But that was friendship. This was more. And even if some people thought it was wrong, she didn't. She couldn't. Love couldn't be wrong, could it?

She didn't covet one man over the other. She didn't worry that their love for the other might eclipsed their love for her. Six months ago she might have thought differently, but now she realized all she needed was love. Love was all she needed. Even if she only had a few months left.

Without hesitation, or forethought basically, she broke the quiet of the giant room by asking, "Do you all love each other?"

Adrian looked at her first, but then the others turned from their spots and stared at her. "Why do you ask?" Adrian inquired.

"I was sitting here, thinking about love, that's all. I wondered if you all loved each other. I love Harry and Ron. They love each other. Do you love each other?"

Marcus stepped forward slightly, although the room was massive, and he was still a far distance from her. He continued walking until he was close enough to her so that he didn't have to shout, and he said, "Do you want to know if we love each other as friends, brothers, or something more, little cub?"

Draco walked closer as well, and then plopped down on a stool on the opposite side of the fireplace. Blaise remained in his chair at the table, but turned his chair around. Theo stayed at Blaise's back, his hand gripping the back of the other man's chair.

"No, well, yes," she fumbled. "Let me start over." She took a fortifying breath, moved a few of the books away from in front of her seat with her feet and stood. "I guess what I'm trying to say, or ask rather, is that, do any of you have feelings for each other that go beyond feelings of Viperness?"

Draco and Adrian laughed. "Viperness?" Adrian asked. "Are you making up words?"

Marcus walked ever nearer, not laughing, not smiling. "Why are you asking this?" he regarded, his eyes partly closed, head cocked to the side.

She licked her dry lips, clenched and unclenched her hands at her sides. "I'm asking because I have an announcement."

"Damn girl can't keep to one subject," Draco retorted.

Blaise stood and said, "Shove it, Malfoy. Let her speak." He walked closer, all the while aware that Theo had taken his previous seat. "Before you make your announcement, love, let me answer your question. I love Theo Nott. I've been in love with him since I was about 12 years old. I knew it was more than just friendship at that time, but I thought my feelings were wrong, or bad, so I never told anyone for a long time. I also thought, at one time, that I was in love with one of the other Vipers."

Taking a few more steps, he stopped in front of Hermione. "At age fourteen, I told my mother that I like both girls and boys. I asked her if something was wrong with me. Being my mother, and loving me no matter what, thinking I was the best thing since the invention of the broom, she said I was perfect. I was made the way I was supposed to be made. I should love whomever, or whatever, I wanted to love."

He looked over at Marcus, then back to Hermione. "About that time, Theo was beaten pretty badly by his father for admitting to having a crush on a Mudblood. I can't remember, you we tell you about that?"

Hermione stood stoically, waiting. "Yes, go on."

Draco interrupted with, "We all know that, what does it have to do with your story?"

Marcus took over. "Astoria learned from Daphne, who learned from me, that Theo had a crush on you. She told Theo's dad, who beat him until he couldn't walk. I was sixteen or so, perhaps almost seventeen. Almost as big as I am now. I went to Mr. Nott and without magic I demanded retribution on the man with my fists."

Theo jumped up from his chair to stand on Marcus' other side. He turned to Marcus, then back toward Draco and Hermione.

Marcus admitted, "What all of you don't know is, there's more to that grotesque little story. It was during the same truth session that I told Daphne about Blaise. She told Astoria all about that, too."

"You never told us that," Adrian said.

Marcus looked down at the ground, then back at Adrian. "How could I? It would have crushed Blaise."

"Did Astoria tell anyone?" Hermione asked. "I mean, Blaise didn't have a father to tell, and his mother already knew, so who could she tell?"

Draco cleared his throat. "She told my father, who told me."

Hermione whipped around to Draco, as did the rest of them, save for Blaise and Marcus. "I've known about Blaise since that time, but I didn't care, and I didn't tell anyone. He was my best mate. My father threatened Astoria, and told her if she ever told anyone, what he assumed was a lie, about Blaise, he would punish her. She was afraid, of course, I mean, he's Lucius Malfoy. She kept quiet."

Hermione processed this information for approximately a minute and then said, "All of these tidbits aside, what does it have to do with my question?"

Marcus looked at Blaise again. Blaise nodded toward Marcus, with a small, slight, but obvious nod. Marcus walked right up to Hermione, took her hand, and admitted, "The reason I told Daphne these things, back when I was a boy of sixteen or seventeen, wasn't just because I wanted to share idle gossip with her. I told her because she…" He stopped.

Blaise stepped even closer and placed his arm around Marcus. "It was because Marcus was my first."

"Your first what?" Hermione asked quite innocently and seriously, even as Adrian gasped in the background, Draco expressed himself with an eloquent, "Fuck me," and Theo was heard to say, "No."

Marcus was still holding Hermione's hands. He smiled, that crooked smile of his, with his now perfectly, straight white teeth, and he said, "Blaise and I have a past, little cub. His first time with a male was with me."

She fell backwards into her chair, even though he still held her hands. Marcus knelt before her. "Isn't that what you wanted to know?"

She nodded, but said nothing.

"If that's true, why did you tell Daphne about Theo though? I've always wanted to know," Adrian expressed.

Marcus went down on one knee, placed his arm across Hermione's lap, and turned his head toward Adrian. "I was young and stupid. She caught Blaise and me, and so to deflect some of my guilt and shame, I told her about Theo. I never in a million years thought she would tell her sister, but she was angry with me, so she did. She told Astoria about me and Blaise and about Theo's crush. It was my fault that Astoria told Nott senior that Theo had a crush on Granger. Merlin, it was innocent, compared to what I did, and he was punished."

Marcus stood, turned around, and saw Theo, halfway across the room again, sitting in a chair at the table, looking lost and forlorn. "Your sin was so much less than mine, and yet I made it out like it was worse, and you were punished for it. I was so angry, mostly at myself. That's the main reason why I beat the shite out of your father that day."

"I don't care," Theo said in a raspy voice. "I only care that you did it, and I'm glad, because he never beat me again after that."

"I believe that's because my father and some of the other Death Eater's also made it plain that if he did, he'd be sorry," Draco explained, standing from the footstool. "So, let me get this straight, if I can, since there aren't many straight things in this bloody room." He pointed to Blaise. "You and him! Seriously! He was your first! You once told me Penelope Clearwater was your first!"

"She was my first girl, at the same age, fourteen," Blaise said, a slight smile on his face. "She was seventeen. Ah…it was heaven."

"But you and the human muscle over there?" Draco asked again. "I mean, seriously? You couldn't pick someone else?" Then he walked up to Marcus, who was standing to the right of Hermione's chair, "And you!" he pointed, "You weren't all that in school. You were good in sports, I'll give you that, and tall and you had muscles, but you had terrible marks, and bad teeth back then, with a terrible disposition, and I can't fathom why he'd pick you!"

Adrian snorted, "You almost seem jealous, Malfoy."

"Of course I'm jealous! Blaise and I have been best mates, along with Theo, since we were in nappies! If he wanted his first time to be with a bloke, he could have asked me. I would have said no, but still!"

Suddenly, Hermione laughed. She had to laugh. It was all so extreme. She looked across the room at Theo, and he was smiling, too. "What about you, Mr. Nott?" she asked. The room fell into a hushed silence.

"What about me?" he asked back.

"Yes. What about you," she repeated. "Do you love any of the Vipers as more than mere friends?"

"I thought it was obvious," he returned, standing finally to join all the others around her chair. He shouldered past Blaise and Marcus to stand directly in front of her. "I love you, Hermione Granger. Right or wrong, whatever that means. I love you; or rather I'm in love with you. And yes, I'm certain that in one way or another I'm probably in love with each and every one of these men." He shook his head, as if clearing his thoughts, and continued, "I don't know what that means. I don't know if that's perverted or immoral, but you asked us a question, and you deserve an answer."

"Gee," she murmured low. "I was just thinking almost the same thing."

He reached for her hands, pulled her to stand in front of him and said, "Now make your announcement."

Biting her bottom lip again, she took a deep breath, smiled and said, "I think the cure for this curse is love. As asinine as that sounds, I believe all you need is love. Now, I think I found out something about Thomas Connell, and we need to make 'a list' to write down our plan of action."

Draco sat back down on the footstool and said, "Damn girl is delirious if she wants to make ANOTHER list."


	37. Ch 37 I don't Want to Spoil the Party

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 37 – I Don't Want to Spoil the Party**

Hermione had just announced to the Vipers that the cure to her curse was 'love' and she genuinely believed that. However, being that Hermione Granger was synonymous with analytical deduction, she still wanted PROOF!

Therefore, she told the Vipers that she had just read a small biography about Thomas Connell in a book about Dark wizards and she thought it might prove helpful. Suggesting that they make a list of things that they needed to accomplish to heal her, she started barking orders, such as: "Blaise and Marcus will go to Wales, where the Professor was born. Adrian will send an Owl to Harry in Peru and tell him to come back home. Then Adrian and Draco will go to the Ministry and find all the files they can find on the man. In the meantime, Theo and I will go to Hogwarts, preferable this afternoon, to see if there are any old records of him from when he went to school there. We'll also search the restricted section of the library."

She bent down at the waist to pick up the book that she'd previously scooted from her lap, and asked, "Draco, are you making a list of everything I'm saying?"

"Hell no, I'm not," Draco pouted.

"Fine, I suppose we can all remember our jobs without a list. I just find a list easier to follow and it helps to keep people on track," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "Now, listen to what I've learned about Connell in this book."

While four of the men crowded around Hermione's chair to listen, one remained off to the side. The one off to the side shouted, "Wait a moment!"

Five sets of eyes turned to Draco Malfoy, who had just bellowed.

"What is it, Malfoy?" Marcus asked.

"We don't have time to do all of this right now!" he insisted.

"Why ever not?" Hermione insisted right back.

If he told her his reasons, he would sound like a spoiled, rotten child. He didn't care. "BECAUSE IT'S ALMOST MY BIRTHDAY! My birthday ball is tomorrow night, or have all of your forgotten."

Hermione closed the book on her lap slowly. "I did forget," she admitted. "I'm sorry Draco. I forgot all about your party."

"Draco, there's no need to shout," Theo chastised. "And there's nothing to keep us from following these leads about Connell, and coming back here tomorrow night for your birthday. I know it's important to you."

"No, you apparently don't know how important it is, because everyone's going to ruin it by taking on all these extra tasks to help Granger!" he bemoaned. "No one cares!"

Marcus huffed, "You're selfish, Malfoy," at the same moment that Hermione said, "I care, Malfoy. I don't want to take away from your birthday."

Draco let out a sort of snort and said, "You care, but I imagine no one else does."

"We're talking about the little Gryffindor's life, Malfoy!" Marcus argued. "That's a bit more important to me than your birthday, which comes and goes each year. This may be her last!"

"Why don't you try to be a bit more priggish and crude, Flint?" Draco snapped.

Adrian placed a hand on Draco's sleeve, interjecting, "Why is this birthday so special, Malfoy? Why are your parents having a ball? It's not as if turning 26 is that special.""

Draco sighed, (instead of snorting this time) and moved to sit on the arm of Hermione's chair. "Because they plan on announcing my betrothal at the ball."

Hermione gasped, and the friends all had looks upon their faces that ranged from shock to amusement.

"Why now?" Theo asked, coming up to stand next to him.

"It was always made clear to me that I had to marry by age 27," Draco said sheepishly, feeling guilty mentioning _that age_ in front of Hermione. "It was a factor that I agreed to when my parents let me break things off with Astoria." He glanced quickly to his right, to Theo, when he said the name 'Astoria', and then turned just as quickly away.

"Fine," Adrian prompted, "but you're turning 26 tomorrow, not 27."

Draco nodded. "I know…a year's engagement is proper, and my mother says it takes that long to plan the wedding of the century," he said sarcastically.

Hermione swallowed hard, and placed a hand on his thigh to capture his attention. "Who's the wife to be?"

Draco mumbled something under his breath.

"What? No one heard you, Malfoy," Blaise said, stepping closer.

"Pansy Parkinson," he repeated.

"But she's a pug face sow!" Blaise barked. "She's even more vapid and horrid than Astoria was! You can't marry her! You don't love her! Hell, you don't even like her!"

"I have no choice, alright?" Draco shouted in return. "I don't want to, but I promised them that I would become engaged at 26, and be married by 27, and I wanted the support of my friends there!"

Hermione felt a cold numbness settling across her body. It started at her lips, went to her chest, and out through her extremities and beyond. There was a hollow, empty ache in the middle of her chest, as if a thousand nails had been driven into her heart, and the holes had been left there, and all the blood had bled from her body.

Awash in the pain of it all was a deep-seated jealousy. She was jealous. Jealous of the fact that Draco Malfoy was going to become engaged tomorrow night, and married in a year, even if it was to someone who had a pug face, whom he hated. She would never have that. Never.

Bowing her head in a silent confession to her own pain and suffering, she reached for Draco's hand and said, "We'll all be there tomorrow, don't worry. I won't spoil your birthday. This can wait. I still have three months. What's one more day?"

Draco slipped off the arm of the chair and placed his head on her lap. "I can't ask that of you. I'm sorry I even thought of it."

Placing a hand in his hair, she proclaimed, "It's alright, Draco. It's what friends do for each other. And you might find that you like being married." She found that she almost couldn't speak. "You might want to settle down, have a home of your own, and children someday soon."

Blaise leaned forward and said, "Yes, pug-faced children."

Everyone laughed.

Draco held up two fingers toward Blaise, prompting a retort of, "Rude, little bugger," from the man, and then he slipped away from the group to find parchment and quill. Returning shortly, he said, "I'm here to make the list of things to do for tonight, Granger." He fixed the piece of parchment onto the mantelpiece with magic.

Smiling at Draco, she turned to Blaise and asked, "Would you read the passage I have marked in that book, please?"

Bending down to pick up the book, Blaise opened it and started to read at the top of the page, silently at first, then he paraphrased by telling the rest of them, "The passage that the cub found says that Thomas Connell was one miserable old sod. Born in the nineteenth century, in 1849, the author here says he lived an unhappy and unfilled life. He was never married, although he was rumored to be in love with not only his best friend…" Blaise looked up and wiggled his eyebrows… "but also his best friend's wife."

"Talk about a tidy little threesome," Marcus remarked, sitting on the stool to the left of Hermione. "That must be where the Triad Cure comes from, aye Adrian?"

"I'm not sure," Adrian admitted. "What else does it say?" Before Blaise could answer, Adrian leaned forward and grabbed the book from his hands, to find out for himself. "It doesn't say much else except that he cursed many places and things in an attempt to leave a lasting legacy. It also says that his best friend, Enoch Washburn and his wife, Isabelle, died from one of his curses…" he looked up, "both at age twenty-seven."

Now everyone looked at Hermione.

She looked at her hands in her lap. She'd already made note of that fine little fact.

Impatient to find out more, Draco grabbed the book from Adrian and read on to himself, though a moment later he complained, "It doesn't say anything else. It only says they died at age 27, and at the time, the Ministry of Magic suspected Connell of cursing them, but couldn't prove anything. How did they die? What made him curse that cave in Peru? How did he die?"

"All things you should be writing down on your list," Theo prompted.

Hermione sighed. "I think it's too much to hope that we'll find the answers to all of these questions in one day. Draco's right. We don't know anymore than we did before I found this passage in this book."

"I disagree," Theo said passionately, kneeling at her knees, placing his arms across her lap. "It's time to act, and time to act now."

"Oh really?" she inquired with a shaky laugh.

"Really," he reiterated.

With a swish of his wand, Draco said, even as he wrote on the parchment, "Number _**1 -**_ _**How did Connell's best friend and wife die? **_The author doesn't mention that. We have to find that out, and find out if he killed them somehow. Adrian and I will go to the Ministry and uncover what we can. He's got almost unlimited passage to the place, due to his secret little job, and where he can't go, my money will buy us the information."

Hermione bit her lip to keep from laughing. "I suggested the same thing a moment ago."

"Quiet now, Granger, I'm making a list," Draco declared.

Theo grabbed Draco's wand from his hand and slashed out a quick number 'two', reading it only after he wrote it. "Miss Granger and I will make a trip to Hogwarts_**. 2 - find out everything we can about Thomas Connell from his old school records, **_and perhaps we'll find something more in the restricted section of the Library."

Hermione crossed her arms in front of her chest. "That sounds vaguely familiar, too. I suggested that as well!"

Pulling Draco's wand from Theo's hand, Hermione stood from her chair, looked at the two-item list so far and put an addendum under number two. "While Theo and I are at Hogwarts, we'll fulfill another of my tasks: '_**Walk around Hogwarts at night and not get caught'**_."

She shrugged and added, "Might as well, right?"

"You two are spending the night there?" Blaise asked with a sexy smile.

"So?" Hermione asked, blushing madly.

He nudged her with his shoulder. "All night. Fine with me. You two haven't had a night yet, have you?" He laughed.

"Leave her be," Theo said adamantly.

Blaise winked at Theo, swung an arm around Hermione and wrestled Draco's wand from her hand. Then he turned to the list and added a number 'three'. "Flint and I will, _**3 - Find out more about the author who wrote this book on dark wizards**_. It's a new book, written in the last few years, I'd say. Dark wizards are usually fascinated with other Dark wizards. Perhaps we'll find this chap and persuade him to tell us how he found out his information on the man in question. If we can't persuade him, one way or another, we'll enlist the help of Lucius Malfoy. He can make anyone tell anyone anything."

Hermione began to shake her head no, ducking her head out from under Blaise's embrace. "I don't like that part of the plan. No asking Lucius Malfoy for anything."

Draco grabbed Hermione by the arms and pulled her to him. "Well do whatever we have to do, Granger. We'll ask whomever we have to ask. Let us worry about that. You go home, feed whatever your cat's name is, and pack for your sojourn to Hogwarts. Then be ready for my birthday ball tomorrow night, and save the first waltz for me."

He kissed her forehead and grabbed the list off the mantle, then pulled his wand out of Blaise's hand. "Come on, Pucey. You and I have sleuthing to do. On to the Ministry."

Draco left the Library and Adrian watched him go. He turned to the rest of them and said, "I hope you're happy, Hermione. You've created a list-making monster." With a laugh, he left after Draco.

Marcus walked up to Hermione and brushed a lock of her hair away from her face. "You'll be right as rain with Theo. And leave everything to Blaise and me. We'll find out what we can from the author of that book." He brushed his lips to hers, softly, quickly, then he too left the room.

Blaise picked up a few of the books that littered the room before turning toward Theo and Hermione. Walking up to them slowly, he said, "Whatever you two do, just remember to be careful. Don't take any risks that aren't necessary."

Hermione offered him a grin and said, "Seriously, Blaise, we're just going to Hogwarts. It's my favourite place in the world. What could happen to me there?"

Grabbing her to him, he embraced her fully, while looking over her head toward Theo. He gave Theo a disconcerting look and said, "I'm not sure, but I wish you two well. Take care of her, and be careful."

Theo nodded, solemnly. Blaise released Hermione, only to walk up to the only Viper left in the room, save for himself. Reaching forward, he rubbed his hand up and down Theo's arm, and then pulled him into a hug. Whispering something in his ear, (in which Hermione couldn't hear) he then ended by giving Theo a pat on the back and an uneasy smile before he trotted after the other Vipers.

"What did he say to you at the end?" Hermione asked.

Glancing away, then back to her quickly, he took her hand instead of answering. "Let's go to the house and get packed for our trip to Hogwarts."

Arriving back to the townhouse together, Hermione went upstairs to shower and pack, while Theo did the same downstairs. He finished before her, so he went upstairs to her flat to wait. Opening the door slowly, he almost tripped over the kitten, which plopped over to its side, showing Theo his belly, upon his arrival in the apartment.

Theo used the toe of his boot to rub the kitten's stomach. "Hello there, whatever the hell your bloody name is," he said to the small animal. He noticed that Hermione had already placed a fair mount of food and water out for the kitten, and he could hear that she was still showering, so there was nothing for him to do but wait for her.

He sat on the couch and that was when he saw it – the book about mocking birds was sitting on the top of that ratty-brown jumper, which was folded on the top of her other clothing, in a small valise on her coffee table.

Checking the bathroom door, (it was still closed – the shower was still running) he opened the book as fast as he could so he could see if the rest of her original list was still inside.

It was.

The list with numbers 17 through 20 were on a folded piece of parchment between pages 157 and 158, so he unfolded the parchment carefully, leaving the book opened face down on the sofa. Then he read the rest of her list.

_**17 – Have a child someday. I would like to have more than one, but I won't be selfish. One will do.**_

_**18 – Find a man who will love me for me, and whom I can love for him, and then be in love together. (How poetic.)**_

_**19 – Even though I'm not the sort to dream of 'dream weddings', I'd like to have the wedding of my dreams. (Autumn leaves, outside, perfect weather, etc.)**_

_**20 – Live to be a very old woman. (AKA - Find a cure for the curse that will supposedly kill me in six months, because really, who wants to die in six months?)**_

Even though she had told him the what was on the rest of her list the day they 'climbed the mountain' in his back garden, reading the second part of her list made him abjectly sad and heartbroken. There was no way she would ever be able to do the things on this page of her list, and that was why she hid it from everyone, which also made him sad.

Saddest of all was that he was going to lose her before he even had a chance to show her how much he loved her. He wanted to 'show' her how much he loved her tonight, while they were alone – which was what Blaise suggested to him when he whispered in his ear earlier. Yet Theo wondered if that was fair to Hermione. Was if fair to him? Was if fair for them to show their love...share their love...when their love wasn't going to last beyond another three months?

Before he could think more on the subject, he heard the water turn off in the shower. With deftness of hand and an eye on the bathroom door at all times, he placed the folded list back in the book, the book back in her valise, and leaned back on the sofa, arms over the back, and a smile pasted falsely on his face. She would never suspect a thing.

She walked out of the bathroom, noticed Theo on the couch, and promptly screamed as she ran across the main room to the bedroom.

Theo's mouth flew open in shock. Hermione Granger was completely naked…yes, she was…with drops of water all over her sweet little body. Theo closed his eyes and groaned. He was going to spend the night alone with her tonight, too. Goodness gracious, no wonder Blaise whispered what he whispered in his ear earlier.

Now what was he going to do?

The kitten jumped up on the couch and gave Theo a quizzical look, which Theo returned. "I know, cat," Theo said, reaching down to stroke his ear. "I know. It's tonight or never, right?"

The cat looked at him strangely, and then jumped off his lap. Theo didn't care. Even if the cat didn't know what Theo meant, THEO knew what he meant. It was going to happen…tonight.

* * *

_A/N: I had this chapter and one other one completely hand written and I lost them so I had to start over by scratch. That's why it took me so long to update - because I kept LOOKING for the papers...in my car, my purse, my notebooks, downstairs, upstairs, at work, everywhere. Finally, I was resigned to the fact that I was going to have to re-write it!_

_One week until my surgery? Will there by an update? Maybe...if I can find that other blasted, handwritten chapter!_


	38. Chapter 38 For You Blue

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 38 – For You Blue**

The afternoon sun shone bright and balmy on this warm day in June as Hermione Granger and Theodore Nott walked from Hogsmeade village to Hogwarts School. After Apparating to the village, and leaving their things at a local inn, they started their trek to their former school, walking side-by-side, mostly in silence.

Watching the man beside her out of the corner of one eye even as she tried to watch the well-worn path with the other, she took a fortifying breath and decided that if she was going to spend some time alone with Theodore Nott then she was going to spend it wisely. She wanted to get to know the man better. She wanted to know everything about him. She wanted to know what he thought, what he felt, what he desired, what he wanted and even what he needed more than life itself. She wanted to know his past, his present, and his plans for the future.

Maybe she might even kiss him.

Turning her head slightly, he caught her gaze and smiled at her. He was alarmingly handsome. His hair was light brown, but in the bright haze of the sun, she noticed streaks of blond, which she hadn't noticed before now. He wore it longer than the other Vipers wore their hair, but that was fine by her. She liked long hair. His eyes were unusual, too - a cross between brown, hazel and green.

However, the first thing she noticed about him after all these years was his perfect, white teeth. Being the daughter of dentists, she noticed these sorts of things. Unlike her teeth, or Marcus' teeth, both of which had been fixed with either magic or orthodontia, she had a feeling that Theo probably always had perfect teeth. His smile, though selective and not often given, was dazzling in its effect. It could knock a girl off her feet.

Thinking of his teeth made her think of his mouth, then his lips, which were full and soft. They hadn't shared many kisses yet, but the ones they had shared curled her toes, tingled her tummy, and made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside. She had to bite her bottom lip to keep from smiling to herself at the very thought of it all.

Then there were his hands. He had nice hands too. His fingers were long and slender, his palms smooth, the tops of his hands sinewy with tendons and muscles that flexed from years of playing the piano. She wished he would reach over and grab her hand in one of his.

What would they feel like on her skin?

She glanced at him again and he was still watching her. He had an easy air about him…not the same jaunty 'devil may care' countenance that Blaise had, but a self-assurance and awareness that he wore proudly. She had a feeling that sometimes the other Vipers didn't always see that trait in him. They often still saw him as an insecure, sensitive boy, but he had grown into a man of many strengths and strong qualities.

What was it about him that drew her to him so strongly? She was hard press to define it herself beyond feelings of attraction, yet the feelings were there, hidden deeply inside her, waiting to come out. She might be suppressing her feelings for him because deep down she knew they would never come to mean anything because she didn't have long to live.

He angled his face toward hers and said, "You're in a pensive mood this afternoon."

"I suppose I am," she replied, adding, "and you're very astute." She stumbled slightly on the road, knocking her arm into his.

He steadied her by bracing a hand on her elbow, and then with ease he moved his long, slender fingers down her arm, to her wrist, finally wrapping his hand around hers.

For a moment, she felt as if she couldn't breathe. Just the touch of his hand on hers caused her to feel giddy inside, with thoughts of romance dancing in her head. She felt like a young girl again who had discovered her feelings for her first beau.

Hermione longed for those days again. He squeezed her hand slightly, which gave her courage. Funny, that. She was always thought to be the courageous one, but lately her courage had been waning, yet walking toward her old school, with a man she had fallen in love with, holding her hand, gave her courage to say:

"I feel as if we hardly really know each other."

He laughed, more like a snort, and smiled again. They continued to walk and he answered ruefully, "Oh, I don't know about that, Miss Granger. Seems we know more about each other than we did before, for instance, I now know you have a mole on your bum, lower right side."

Pulling on his arm playfully, she swatted his chest with her free hand, her face turning red with a heated blush. Remembering how he saw her naked earlier, and how he might see her naked tonight, made her feel slightly queasy and uneasy.

She thought briefly of the fact that all of the other Vipers had already seen her naked, intimately so, but it would feel differently with him.

After the prolong silence, he said, "Nothing to say?"

Aware that he had now linked the fingers of their joined hands together, she countered, "That wasn't really what I meant. So what? You saw me naked. And sure, we've had a few heart to heart talks, but what do we really know of each other?"

Staring ahead, with tension in his body, he asked, "What do you want to know?"

"I don't know," she said with an irritated edge in her voice. "What's your favourite colour?"

He stopped walking, forcing her to stop, dropping her hand from his. Standing under a canopy of trees, which lined the old, worn path on each side, they stood facing each other. "Really? My favourite colour?"

"It's a start," she reasoned.

His hands on his hips, he moved to the side of the road, placing his back against a tree. "My favourite colour," he said flatly.

She sighed and stood in front of him. "It's only that I already know where you went to school. I know of your abusive childhood. I know who your friends are. I know you play the piano with a passion, you have an uncanny ability in which you can tell when someone is in distress, and you have a natural ability to heal people. You're intuitive, introspective, quiet, smart, sensitive and strong."

He looked at her amused and said, "Go on, tell me what else you DON'T know about me?"

She didn't seem to hear the fact that he was mocking her, so she continued. She moved even closer, so that even as he turned to place his right shoulder against the ancient old tree, she moved to place her left shoulder against it.

"You have a strong sense of right and wrong, you like to be in control of everything, and live an orderly life, which stems from the fact that you lived in chaos as a child – hence your love of coasters." She smiled at that, his smile soon followed.

"You love all of your friends, even though I'd bet deep inside you think you don't know how to love, but you do, Theo." She placed a hand on his chest, over his heart. "You love passionately and without fail, that's why you never gave up on Astoria, and why you never stopped loving her, and never forgave yourself, even though it wasn't your fault that she died. You love even though you had a childhood without love, a childhood filled with hate, abuse, fear and sorrow. Even with all of that, your heart is strong and it's not turned you callous and abusive or vindictive…quite the contrary."

He brought his arms around her waist to draw her closer. Their lips were so close that she could feel a puff of air with each word he spoke as he inquired, "Is there anything else?"

Feeling somewhat embarrassed, she placed her head upon his chest and said, "I know that out of all of the Vipers, I find you the most attractive. I've always been drawn to you the most. You're handsome, alluring…" and then she stopped.

He placed a hand on her chin, forcing her head back up so that she had to meet his gaze.

"And?" he asked.

She wanted to add, _'And I'm falling in love with you the most. I love them all, but I'm passionately, hopelessly in love with you, but I fear it's too late because I'm going to die'_, but instead she said, "And I want to know your favourite colour."

He leaned down slightly, placed his lips gently upon hers in a feather light kiss, pressing first his top lip on her top lip, then his bottom lip on her bottom lip. Then just as quickly, he withdrew and said, "Blue. My favourite colour is blue."

She blinked quickly, licked her lips, even as she tried to still her rapidly beating heart, and said, "All men say that."

"You think I'm handsome?" he asked with a smile, his arms still around her.

She knew she should say a simple 'yes' because she did think he was handsome, yet she also thought he was beautiful inside and out, and she had already been rambling, which annoyed most people except for perhaps Harry Potter, so she decided to keep quiet at the moment. Nodding would work.

She nodded.

"What about you?" he asked, his hand coming up to pick something either real or imaginary out of her hair. He maneuvered them both so her back was against the tree.

She swallowed hard. What did he mean? Usually she was very intelligent, but around him, her brain tended to turn to mush. "What about me?" she repeated.

With a smile he asked, "What's your favourite colour?"

"OH…" she laughed. "That's easy. I like green."

No sooner had the word 'green' left her lips then Theo grabbed Hermione by the shoulders, pushed her backwards off the tree toward the woods, to another tall tree on the very outskirts. He had a smile on his face. And all she had said was that she liked green. What might have happened if she had said she like aquamarine or puce?

This man surprised her more and more. She was suddenly hyper-aware of everything around her, everything inside her, everything about her – and therefore, everything about him.

With her back up against the rough bark of the new tree, his hands skimming her arms, his face hovering over hers, she became aware of every little nuance and feature of this man. Forget about her earlier ramblings concerning his inner strength and goodness. Gone were her inner musings about his white teeth and general fortitude over an oppressive childhood.

At this very moment, with his warm breath panting against her cheek, his clear eyes fixed on her face, his lips partly closed, she was taken with subtler things, such as the slope of his nose. The way his mouth would raise to one side in a sly smile as if he was the only one who was aware of a very naughty joke. The glow of his green-hazel eyes, and the wing-shaped eyebrows above them. The stray tendrils of hair falling into those eyes as his head dipped to her neck, his lips skimming her collarbone, which he just exposed by pushing the collar of her blouse partly to the side.

Oh my.

Hermione reached up a shaky hand to push back his hair. He looked up at her, his lips still moist from kissing her recently opposed skin. Up went that right corner of his mouth, out came that sly little smile, then he teased, "Green, huh? All good little girls say pink, don't they, if all boys say blue?"

Hermione found it hard to breathe, let alone speak. They were so close to each other, and his hands were still playing all over her body, as if she were the keys of his piano. They touched her here and there and everywhere. Leaning in once more, he kissed her chin, her cheek, an eyelid (which she closed) then the tip of her nose.

All she could think was that it was no wonder all of the Vipers loved him so. Then she had a fiercer thought. Astoria Greengrass had been a fool NOT to love him. How could she not see how incredibly wonderful he was? How could his parents not love him to pieces? She adored him the first time she truly met him again after school, and that adoration grew to what she felt right now.

Love.

He moved from small kisses to her cheeks and earlobe, to kissing her neck outright, sucking on the pulse point. She moved her head to allow it, and thought that while she surely loved all of the Vipers as more than merely friends, she was IN love with this man more than she thought was humanly possible.

She sighed. Wasn't love grand? Even a dying woman enjoyed being kissed and kissed and loved this way, and by the way he was leaning closer she could tell that he was about to kiss her lips. True, they had kissed several times now, but the anticipation of THIS kiss was killing her slowly. This kiss was going to be different. It was from a man who loved her as much as she loved him.

Now she had hope. She wanted to live. She wanted to live more than she wanted anything else in the world. She wanted to fulfill the last part of her list (numbers 17, 18, 19 and 20). And even that thought left her addled brain as his lips crept ever closer to her lips, one of his hands on her back, between her and the tree, the other tangling in her hair.

She placed her hands around his neck and wondered if she should say something. Usually she found it prudent to speak at times like these, and usually she was wrong, so she kept her mouth close, which ended up being a good thing because it was at that exact second (when she decided NOT to speak) that he touched his mouth to hers.

It was toe curling, it was.

She would have fallen to the ground in a heap at his feet if it weren't for the fact that he had his arms around her. His tongue was skimming the seam of her lips, even as his lips tasted, his teeth nipped, and tongue prodded and stroked the deep recesses of her mouth.

Even if Hermione lived past September, she would never experience a kiss like this kiss from Theodore Nott. Deep in her soul she knew that he was going to be her salvation, and if she did survive and he didn't continue to kiss her like this every day of her life, than she might not WANT to survive.

And as with all good things, this too had to end. Theo pushed away from her with a final small kiss of conclusion, then he pushed himself away from her, but kept his arms next to her head, his hands on the tree, framing her face, arms bracing around her, protecting her, embracing her.

With his thumb on her cheek, moving back and forth, he asked, "Do you really like green, Miss Granger?"

Hermione Granger laughed, pushed him away from her, ran out from the cage of his arms toward the well-worn path of the road again, and turned back to him and said, "Did I really say that? No, I was lying. I actually like blue, too."

She motioned for him to hurry with her hand, a smile still on her face, not even remembering the last time she felt so happy, so carefree, so unencumbered. He ran back toward her, grabbed her hand, and started them back down the road toward Hogwarts.

"See, we got to know quite a bit about each other just now. You learned that I like blue, and I learned that you're a liar." Lifting her hand to his mouth, he placed a kiss on the top and concluded, "I wonder what else we'll find out about each other tonight?"

Turning her face away from his, she said, "Much more, I'm sure. Much, much, more."

* * *

_A/N - This wasn't the chapter I lost. I found that, but I had already written this and liked it better, so even though this was an unnecessary little interlude, I decided to keep it. Surgery is Monday. I'll write as soon as I feel up to it. Thanks so much!_


	39. Chapter 39 Tomorrow Never Knows

_*Notes before a chapter - Most of this chapter was handwritten before my surgery, and is a bit boring, mostly filler and information needed to move the story toward the ending arc. However, it's taken me DAYS to type it. I've been out of the hospital exactly a week, and since then, I've typed a bit every day, and yesterday I finally sent it to my beta. I had no clue a total knee replacement would take so much out of me and make me feel so horrid. I'm not even in my own home yet, but hope to be soon. This chapter doesn't contain Hermione or Theo, but it does have the cure of the curse! Sorry if it's boring, but as I said, it took a lot out of me just to get this chapter to post (and I know, a long time coming)! Thanks!_

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 39 - Tomorrow Never Knows**

Two men sat in chairs opposite a desk in a very posh office in Diagon Alley, when one of the men asked the other, "Why are we here again? We could have found out this information on our own."

The second man said, "But Corner is a genius, and doesn't he know it? He can find out anything about anyone at anytime. If he can't find out who the author of this book is that has the passage of ThomasConnell, than no one can. He does a lot of work for me. I already sent him the particulars by Owl."

"I just don't like it," the first man complained. "I don't like involving other people in Viper business."

The second man said, "He doesn't have to know it's Viper business, however, he does know it has to do with Granger. I hired him back when we weren't sure if she was dying or not...to find out if she_ was_ dying. Of course, she ending up telling us before he told me, but still, he found out somehow. He finds out everything. Those former Ravenclaws are bloody brilliant."

Frowning slightly, the first man said, "I still don't like it."

The second man stated with a crooked smile, "You know what, Flint, you're beginning to sound more and more like Pucey all the time, and I'm not sure I like that!"

Marcus Flint frowned some more at that statement and pointed out, "And sometimes you act more and more like Malfoy and I know for damn sure that I bloody hell don't like that!"

Picking up the book they brought with them from the Manor Library, which the men had placed on the desk when they first arrived, Blaise began to leaf through the pages and he answered, "Is that presumably an insult, because I take it as a compliment, Flint? And using Corner to do our task on Granger's new list is a smart thing to do, because we don't have much time, no, not much time at all."

He placed the heavy tome back in front of him and stood, only to lean his hip against the massive desk. "I doubt we would have found this RobertBashir on our own, you know. As I state, we're running out of time."

"You mean before Malfoy's birthday?" Marcus asked. He stood also and walked over to the window. For June it was ugly and cold outside. The sky was grey, full of clouds, and the sun was hidden behind them. There was no sign that a sun had ever graced the skies. Also, he knew that wasn't what Blaise meant, but he didn't want to linger on that fact.

Blaise sighed, straightened from the desk, and went over to the window to stand next to Marcus. "You know that's not what I meant. Our girl doesn't have much time left." Standing with his shoulder touching the other man's arm, he reached a hand up to place it against the cold, wavy piece of glass. "I wonder what Theo and the cub are doing right now?"

"Feeling left out are you?" Marcus asked sincerely.

"Perhaps - yet I don't begrudge them their time alone. The rest of us have had our time with the cub, so he deserves his time with her," the light-skinned, black man answered, now with both hands on the window. He leaned so closely that his nose almost touched the glass.

Marcus stood directly behind him. They stared at the others reflections. Marcus said, "You might lose them both, you know, by sending them out together, by themselves. They might find that they're happier being alone for her last few months. Are you prepared for that? They might also find that there's no such thing as a Triad cure."

Blaise looked worried for only a split second, then replied, "That won't happen. I know it won't happen. Everything is falling into place. They're finally falling into place." He didn't know if he was trying to convince Marcus or himself.

Marcus put a hand on his friend's shoulder, gave it a squeeze. "Just because you love Theo, doesn't mean you're going to end up with both of them you know. It doesn't mean you're meant to be with the little Gryffindor. Are you even in love with her?"

Blaise whipped around quickly. Marcus was the only Viper taller than him, so he had to raise his gaze slightly to look into the other man's eyes. "Why are you asking me that?"

Marcus didn't answer, and he noticed that Blaise hadn't either, and he found that very interesting. He didn't need to be as insightful as AdrianPucey to find that telling. Instead of waiting for an answer to his question, when he felt certain none was forthcoming, he said, "The Triad alliance might not be the cure, that's all, and if that's the case, what will you do?"

Blaise walked around Marcus and stood by the desk. "Let me ask you something," Blaise inquired, his dander up just a bit. "What made you finally decide to tell everyone about our first time_ after_ all this time? Especially given the fact that you've pretended for a long time that you didn't know about my bisexuality? Yet earlier today you told everyone, as if it was your right to do so, and it really wasn't. So why, Marcus?"

Marcus answered with one word. "Guilt." He sat down in one of the chairs in front of the desk, his long legs out in front of him, his head hanging low.

Blaise walked up to him, placed a hand on his shoulder and he repeated that word, only in the form of a question. "Guilt?"

The older man nodded. He didn't want to explain himself to Blaise, but he knew he was going to have to, unless Corner walked back into the office. "Where's Corner? He told us to have a seat in here and then he left us."

"Marcus?" Blaise begged, "Bugger Corner. Tell me." Blaise sat on the arm of the chair where Marcus sat, so that they were sitting as closely as they could, then Blaise waited for his explanation.

.

In the lowest levels of the Ministry of Magic, Draco Malfoy and Adrian Pucey were in a hidden section rarely used and rarely known. They were lower than the Department of Mysteries, beyond the Tribunal arena, beyond the Wizengamot area, beyond the cells where they held prisoners before they were taken to Azkaban. They were in the bowels of the Ministry were files of every witch and wizard, every court case, every investigation ever initiated, were kept.

Adrian Pucey was a Secret Keeper, commonly known as an Unspeakable, so he was given free reign over every section of the Ministry. There wasn't a room, an office, a Department, or even a cubby-hole that he wasn't allowed access. Draco Malfoy was the second richest wizard in all of Great Britain, next to his father, who was the first. If he wanted access to something, he usually bought his way into it, which was what he did today by the way of giving the Minister of Magic a sizable donation in exchange for free reign into the warrens of dark, dank halls and dim, dirty rooms known as the Files and Information Department of the Ministry of Magic.

Sitting together on the floor for the last four hours with boxes and boxes of files and parchments all around them, Adrian and Draco worked in tandem silence drawling out anything and all things to do with Thomas Connell, and his best friend and his friend's wife, Enoch and Isabelle Washburn.

With a deep cleansing breath, Draco held up a yellowed file which was falling to pieces and said, "This is the file containing the information on the Washburn's deaths."

Adrian crawled over stacks of files and papers, knocking some over as he did, to come sit next to his friend. "What does it say? Did you read it yet?"

Nodding, Draco allowed, "Apparently, they were excavating the same cave in Peru where Granger was cursed, along with Connell. Nothing untold happened at first, but then upon Enoch's twenty-seventh birthday he died of unknown causes. He was taken to St. Mungo's, but they could never find a cause of death. Of course at the time no one associated his death with the cave. But apparently, a few months later, Thomas had begun courting Isabelle, and that was when certain locals in Peru stated that the cave might have been cursed by none other than Connell."

He handed the shabby filed to Adrian and continued, "Several others who were with them also died unexpectedly that same year, also upon their twenty-seventh birthday. That was when the Ministry took notice."

Adrian opened the file, read silently for a moment, then opened a large book on the floor beside him. "Here's a registry of all court cases of around that time. The Ministry must of found just cause to charge Thomas Connell with Dark Magic regarding the cave, and with connection to the five deaths, including his friend and the four others."

Draco threw his folder to the side and drew the book off Adrian's lap unto his own. "It doesn't say whether or not if he was convicted. It also doesn't say if Isabelle was one of the victims."

Adrian almost pushed Draco to the side reaching for another large file. "No, but look at this. These are the actual notes and papers that Connell kept during his Wizengamot trial. He defended himself." Leafing through the fragile old documents, Adrian came upon one in particular and said, "Here's the basis for his defense...apparently he went into the cave, too, and his twenty-seventh birthday came and went and he lived, therefore he claimed that the 'charm', as he called it, instead of calling it a curse, couldn't have killed the other people of their party."

"But what of Isabelle?" Draco wondered aloud.

"Still no mention of her," Adrian answered, thumbing through the pages. Then he stopped and held up one of Thomas Connell's old, yellowed, handwritten documents. "Look at this, Malfoy." He handed the piece of parchment to Draco.

Taking the paper from Adrian, Draco noticed immediately to what his friend was referring, and he dropped the piece of parchment, took the entire folder off Adrian's lap to examine more of the Wizard's handwritten documents.

"LISTS!" Draco exclaimed. "He wrote everything in lists! All his notes, all his thoughts, his musings, his plans, his schemes, his reminiscences! Lists!"

Adrian stood up and said, "That's how he survived the curse of the cave! It must be! It had nothing to do with the Triad Charm, even though I know I read about it regarding one of his curses. But this curse, the curse of the cave in Peru...it can only be survived with enacting a list and then performing each and every task upon it!"

Adrian sat back down and pulled out a final piece of paper, "Look! This is it! This is the list that saved his life regarding the cursed cave! Merlin!"

"A bloody list?" Draco shouted, moving again to sit beside him. He stared down at the list with a short five things on it. He read aloud, "The five things I must do to survive the curse of the cave." Holding the fragile piece of yellowed parchment in his grasp, Draco said, "All he had to do was make out a sodding list and follow it to the letter!"

"It must be," Adrian concluded. "I know it sounds simple, but it has to be."

Draco dropped the paper, grabbed Adrian's shoulders and shook him slightly. "Then perhaps Granger will survive this! All she has to do is complete everything on her list!"

"We have to be sure before we go off half-cocked," Adrian suggested, sitting back against the wall. "Let's see what else we can find first. Let's see what we can find out about Isabelle, and how she died."

Draco sat back, but mumbled, "I assure you, I'm always fully cocked, but alright."

.

Back in Michael Corner's office, Blaise placed a hand on Marcus' arm and repeated the word, "Guilt? What do you mean by that? How did 'guilt' make you tell everyone a secret that wasn't yours to tell? How did 'Guilt' make you realize what I was, even though you were my first. I mean, for all you knew, it could have been a one and only time. I've always pretended otherwise, and so have you. You've never let on that you knew..."

Frustrated, Marcus rubbed his hands over his face. "Back in school, I mean, we were kids, young kids, Blaise, all of us. I wouldn't have hurt Theo in the world. But yet, I knew the moment I told Daphne about Theo having a crush on Granger that she would tell her sister and Astoria would tell their father, who would tell Mr.Nott. I knew it and I still did it. What's more, DracoMalfoy thought that he was the one that told the secret to Astoria about Theo, and for years I've let him believe that, but it was me. I told Daphne long before Draco knew about it. I let Draco live with the guilt and remorse that he was the reason Theo was beaten that day by his father, when it was always my fault, but we were kids, Blaise." Again, Marcus, who had periods of quiet contemplation, picked that moment to prove that he was the strong and silent type, because he stopped talking.

He turned his head and merely stopped, until Blaise placed an arm around him. He turned to face Blaise, who had a passive expression. Blaise was waiting for more than Marcus had offered thus far. "Go on," he prompted. "You're going off on a tangent. What does Theo's crush on Granger as a lad have to do with your telling everyone about my first time with you?"

"I could have told her about you and I, but where would that have gotten me? And the truth was that I was jealous. I was a bully of a kid, and I was jealous, because you preferred Theo over me and I was jealous of him."

Blaise's once passive expression turned dark and foreboding and Marcus pleaded uncharacteristically, "Please, don't look at me like that. I was just a kid you know. Never in a million years did I think that Theo would be punished the way he was because of it. I never wanted that. You must realize that."

Blaise leaned closer and spat. "But we all knew his father beat him when we were kids! You had to have known he would be beaten for having thoughts about a Mudblood! His father was a Death Eater, just like yours and Malfoy's father!"

"I didn't think of it," Marcus tried to reason, justifying, "And when I learned what happened, that he had to face his father's wrath with the worst beating of his life, I tried to make it right, you know that. I can never take it back. I beat the old man up to assuage my own guilt, not to avenge Theo, and I'll live with that all of my life. I'm so sorry, Blaise."

And for once in their lives, the strongest of them bowed his head, in shame and sorrow, and he heaved a great gulping breath and began to cry.

Blaise walked behind Marcus' chair, wrapped his arms around him, placed his face in his hair and said softly, "You still didn't have the right to tell everyone about you and me today, and I'm not sure your answer of 'guilt' answers why you told, but you need to apologize to Theo. Even though it happened a long time ago, you need to do it, and if you don't do it for him, you need to do it for yourself."

"I will," Marcus promised, straightening in his chair, while wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his left arm.

Blaise sat back down and with a little laugh said, "We better hope Corner doesn't bug his office somehow, or we'll be in all sorts of trouble. There are Viper secrets spilling out all over the place." He picked the book they brought with them up from the desk and placed it back on his lap. Fanning the pages with his thumb, he suddenly asked, "Why aren't you and Daphne married yet?" He turned his gaze directly toward Marcus.

Marcus refused to look back at his friend. Instead, he waited an uncomfortable length of silence, filled with not so much as the sounds of even his friend's breathing. How could Blaise remain so silent? Marcus hated how Blaise was always able to handle awkward situations with aplomb – almost with the same attention that Marcus himself showed. When the silence seem to go on a deafening amount of time, Blaise finally said, "Oh, for Merlin's sakes, MarcusFlint, it's just a question. I don't want your firstborn son or anything."

Marcus arched an eyebrow and said, "I haven't yet married Daphne because I'm not truly in love with her, at least, not in the way someone should be to marry. I never will be. I love her like a friend...like I love Adrian, or Theo, or even Malfoy."

That answer didn't seem to surprise Blaise in the least. What did surprise him was the absence of his own name in that sentence. "Does she know?" It begged to be asked.

A moment's silence, then..."Yes, I believe she does." Then..."Does it matter?"

A few swear words, then..."Yes, of course it matters. It changes everything, Flint. You know it does." Now it was Blaise's turn to place his head in his hands. "Draco has a right to know," he mumbled through his hands. "He's in love with Daphne, and he's set to marry 'the wicked witch of pugdom'. Surely you don't want that for either of them!"

Before Marcus could respond, Michael Corner took that moment to walk into his office. "Zabini, Flint, good to see you both." Without bothering to greet the men formally, he forestalled shaking hands, walked around to the chair in front of his desk and sat down. "I got your Owl, Zabini. I decided to get right to work. I found out as much as I could about the author of that book and about the man from that particular chapter, Thomas Connell."

"You work fast," Blaise said, surprised. "I only Owled you three hours ago."

Shrugging, Corner said, "I already obtained some of the information when you asked me to find out if Granger was dying, a few months ago. It all ties together."

Marcus looked quickly to Blaise, then to Michael. "Just tell us what you found out."

Corner leaned back in his chair, placed his feet on his desk and said, "The author of the book, Robert Bashir, is already dead. He had a fascination with Dark Wizards, and your Thomas Connell was about as Dark as they came. He was never prosecuted, but he came close. He was arrested when several people died as a result of a curse he put upon a cave..." he leaned forward, feet now on the floor, "The cave in Peru where Granger was cursed."

Marcus and Blaise looked at each other than back at Michael. "What happened?"

Michael shrugged again and added, "There was a trial. Like I said, several people died, even his best friend, a chap named Enoch Washburn, who was his best friend, and supposed lover. Thing was, his defense was that he was in the same cave, and low and behold his twenty-seventh birthday came and went and he didn't die, so how could the cave be cursed? In fact, his twenty-seventh birthday was during the trial, so they freed him, and he died an old man of seventy."

"What happened to his best friend's wife?" Blaise asked, picking up the book from the Manor's library and turning it to that passage. "It says he was in love with both of them and some people concurred that perhaps a triad, or the love of three was the anti-curse to the curse of the cave."

"How could it be, when Enoch died FROM the curse of the cave?" Michael asked, reasonably.

Blaise dropped the book, his hands shaking. "Still, do you know what happened to the wife?"

"Her name was Isabelle," Michael went on, standing, and crossing over to the other side of the room. "And she was two years younger than the rest of them when they explored the cave, but on her twenty-seventh birthday she too died. I think by that time the Ministry tried to cover everything up, because they were so inept, and because they let a crime go unpunished." He was reading from a file, but then he turned to face the men. "It's here, in this recent interview that was given to the Ministry when they decided to reopen the case, you know, when they were deciding whether or not to censure your good friend Pucey for what happened to Granger and those other two."

"Censure Adrian?" Marcus asked. "He never told us that!"

Michael shrugged. It was becoming annoying. "Yes, apparently he almost lost not only his job, but was almost put on trial himself, because some thought he was aware of the curse BEFORE he sent the team of 26 year old Muggle-borns to examine a cave that was supposedly cursed with a curse that would kill them by the time they reached the ripe old age of 27. However, he got away with a little slap on the wrist, and that's all, because under Veritaserum he swore he didn't know about the curse."

"When the Ministry decided to re-examine the cave, there wasn't really anyone still alive, but there were plenty of stories, and hearsay. I talked to one of Isabelle's great nieces. She also said she talked to AdrianPucey before he sent a team to Peru."

Marcus stood up suddenly and grabbed the file from Michael's hand.

Michael continued, "Of course, it would be the belief of the Ministry that they found the man innocent all those years ago, so all those stories about the curse on that cave were merely just that...stories. Yet, they must have been true, since two people have since died from it, and Granger will soon be next."

Blaise sat back in his seat and grabbed the arms with his hands. "But how did Connell survive?"

"That's my good news," Michael announced, walking over to Marcus to take the file out of his hand. "He survived by a simple little counter curse of his own making. Unbelievably, it has to do with 'a list'.


	40. Ch 40 You've Got to Hide Your Love Away

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 40 – You've Got to Hide Your Love Away –**

_Here I stand, head in hand,_

_Turn my face to the wall,_

_If she's gone, I can't go on,_

_Feeling two-foot small,_

_Everywhere, people stare,_

_Each and everyday._

_I can hear them laugh at me,_

_And I hear them say…_

_Hey! You've got to hide your, love away…_

_Lennon/McCartney_

"It's so good of you to let us come, Headmistress," Hermione greeted her once favourite teacher, Professor McGonagall.

The old woman smiled at her, clasped her hand, and offered, "Anything for my favourite student. I've heard about the curse, and if I can help in anyway, or if you can find a solution in any of the books here at Hogwarts, then you must know, my dear girl that I want to help."

Hermione smiled and continued to shake the older woman's hand, finally letting it drop. "And you remember Theodore Nott, of course?"

"Mr. Nott, a pleasure to see you as well," the older woman replied, adding, "albeit, I'm a bit surprised to find you two together."

Theo smiled and said, "Not more so than us, Professor."

"Well, the Library is at your service. It's after hours, so the students shalln't bother you, and I've opened up the restricted section for you. Stay as long as you'd like. Whenever you need to leave, the main doors will open for you. The Library is already open for you, and I know that at least Miss Granger remembers the way." The headmistress smiled at them and walked down the long corridor off the Great Hall, her heels clicking on the stone floor.

"Do you remember the way to the Library?" Hermione challenged Theo.

"I spent very little time there, but I think I can find it," Theo rebuked, taking Hermione's hand in his.

He led her to one of the moving staircases, which started to move as soon as they stepped upon it. Giving her a reassuring smile he said, "Are you still worried about Malfoy?"

"He was awfully upset when we left earlier," Hermione reminded him.

"He'll get over it," Theo interjected, pulling her across the top of the stairs just as it touched another set, and then it too started to move. "And I'm sure we'll be back in time for his birthday bash tomorrow night, but this is more important than his birthday."

Hermione took a deep breath and looked out toward the next set of stairs wistfully. "I'm not so certain anything's more important than our birthdays, especially since I'm facing my last one ever, not that it matters or anything." She was, but of course, being a bit morbid, and though she tried to smile to show him that she was joking, thinking of her own birthday, which was only three months away, actually made her rather sad.

Theo felt a slow singeing feeling in his chest at her comment, but decided to let it pass, even though the burning went from his chest out through his fingertips and toes. A long silent moment passed between them, then the staircase came to a sudden stop.

Before they stepped away from it, Theo turned to her and said, "You don't mean it. I know you don't mean it. And we'll find a cure long before your birthday."

Hermione shrugged, dropped his hand and walked toward the Library, turning back once. "I'm not sure if I mean it or not anymore."

.

Hermione and Theo stayed in the Library looking for a cure until the morning light began to shine through the windows. This wasn't exactly how Hermione envisioned spending the night with Theo. And it wasn't even a productive night; for they found no cure, there wasn't anything in Connell's file that could help them, and they didn't even really do her task either _(#16 – Walk around Hogwarts at night, explore every nook and cranny, and not get caught)._

Furthermore, she had a note from Adrian Pucey in her right hand, which felt like a burning insignia…that she'd received several hours ago by Owl while Theo was down visiting Professor Slughorn and she hadn't yet told him about it. So with a heavy heart and even heavier eyelids, she placed her head on her left arm as it rested on the table in the library at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, and decided to think of happier thoughts…like her jaunt earlier to the school with Theo that afternoon. Just the thought of their walk to the school made her smile.

After she and Theo had checked into an Inn at Hogsmeade, they started their trek toward the school. It was a nice walk after all, filled with kisses, sunshine, happiness, more kisses, and thoughts about living beyond September. After that they made their way directly to the Headmistresses' office.

Professor McGonagall greeted her 'once favourite student' with smiles and regret.

Hermione gave her 'once favourite teacher' a smile in return, thanked her, and told her why she and Theo Nott were there. They wanted to find the school files on Thomas Connell, the wizard who had cursed the cave in Peru. The Headmistress nodded and told them that she would make his file available to him, along with access to the restricted section of the Library. Although Hermione knew that Harry and Adrian had already searched for cures in the restricted section, Hermione thanked the Professor, took Theo's hand and started for the Library.

Now, many hours later, Hermione sat with her head on her arm, Theo sat in a seat before her, a hundred year old file was in front of her, books stood like fortresses on the table around her, and she was starting to feel slightly depressed again. Something twisted in her stomach, making her feel slightly queasy and upset. The note in her right hand was like a shard of glass cutting her hand to shreds, even though in reality the paper was smooth and even. It was only the words on the paper that was cutting and harmful. She turned her head toward the long windows to the right to contemplate it all. Bits of sun were streaking the walls, floors and tabletops, the hour very early, and she was suddenly consumed with the blasted piece of parchment in her hand and what it all meant.

She had to tell Theo.

She looked up at Theo and said, "Theo?"

"Hmm?" He didn't look up from the old file in which he was studying. Instead, he continued to read, his brows slightly together, his eyes hooded, his mouth in a thin line. Hermione never thought he looked lovelier. Theo Nott was truly a lovely man. She realized with a great lump in her throat just how fragile their love was…like glass. The realization was blinding. Her death might kill him.

"Do you think we should go on home?" she asked, the piece of paper feeling heavier and heavier, even though the reality was that it didn't weigh a thing.

"Go home?" He looked up. "Why? We just got here. We still have time before we have to go back this evening to find out all we can about Connell, and to see if we can find out anything from the restricted section of the Library. We have time before Draco's big party. Likewise, I thought we were going to fulfill one of your task...running around Hogwarts after dark and not get caught." He closed the file, sensing something was wrong...off. "What's wrong?"

Slowly Hermione shrugged one shoulder and then she said, "Dark came and went, as its morning now, so we can't do the task, and we aren't going to find anything helpful here. These school files aren't anything special. All they show are that Connell was a brilliant Slytherin, who rarely got in trouble, but who worried some of his teachers with his thinking and philosophies. And the restricted section of the library has already been searched."

"Yeah, alright, the Connell files are a bust, but why are you giving up suddenly?" Theo frowned now, pushing the file in front of him toward the middle of the long library table.

She debated whether to pass him the folded piece of paper from her right hand. On it was the cure. And the cure was simple. All she had to do was fulfill her list.

How easy it would be to tell him that it was too late to fulfill her list…but how hard it would be, too. No. She couldn't tell him. Not yet. She placed the note from Adrian in the pocket of her big, old brown jumper and said, "I think we should leave the Library and go explore a bit, before everyone wakes up. Let's go do number 16."

"Yeah, okay, that's great," he said guarded, feeling on edge. Taking the note that was in his trouser pocket out with the tips of his cold fingers. As soon as he received an Owl from Blaise while he was down visiting Professor Slughorn, he immediately knew the news was not the happy news they all envisioned. Reading the missive slowly at the time, he said, "Lists? Wh..what does he mean? And Michael Corner confirmed it? All she has to do is finish her list and they feel that's it, she'll be cured?" He thought immediately of numbers 17 to 20, which the other Vipers were unaware. He explained both the note and the list to Professor Slughorn, and then he debated on what he should do.

And now he looked at the note in his hand, slightly under the table, only to lock his gaze with her somber brown eyes, which were filled with grief, and he knew he couldn't tell her what they found. She would blame herself. It could have been easy, but she put things that were unobtainable on her list, things that the other Vipers didn't know about, and things that she would never have time to fulfill. There was no reason to tell her about the cure now.

Theo didn't know what to do with the grief he already saw in her eyes. Love was an easy emotion to deal with, but grief such as she was showing right now, (without knowing about the note from Blaise) and such that she had show at chosen intervals throughout the last few months, were almost more than he could bear.

Because both Theo and Hermione knew something about her list that the other Vipers did not. It did not contain only sixteen frivolous things such as 'cutting Lucius Malfoy's hair' and 'learning how to waltz'. It contained twenty things...four of which she would never be able to complete in time to save her life. And they both held secrets that they wouldn't tell the other, that completing her list – her entire list – would cure her. One found out from Adrian, and one found out from Blaise.

And now Hermione was talking...rambling actually, going on and on about how they should do this and how they should do that and wouldn't it be grand to do this, and perhaps they shouldn't tell anyone about the rest of her list, and it really doesn't matter to her anyway (really it doesn't) because she was already resigned to die...

And Theo felt ill to his stomach. In a remote part of his brain, he began to work out the specifics of how to save her. He remembered a spell he had just read. He thought of how he could trick her into marrying him. Perhaps they could adopt a child. Things would be all right. And there was something specific Professor Slughorn told him tonight that might cure her, but it was risky, and it would come at a terrible cost to another.

But then it was as if she caught his thought, because she began to echo them aloud, only she was taking the part of a naysayer. "It's too late to finish the rest of the list...I can't get married, I can't have a child." And he wondered if she knew about his note, but of course, how could she know?

She looked at him, the woman that he loved, the most beautiful, loving, intelligent woman in the world and he knew that he wasn't going to let her die. No. He wasn't.

Then she placed her head forward and began to weep. Standing quickly from his chair, he rushed to her side, pulled her into his arms and lifted her until she sat in his lap. "Sh, Granger, Sh...you'll wake all the little children who have probably not gotten up yet. Let them sleep a while longer, why don't you?"

"I don't want to die, Theo." She turned to face him. She loved this man. The sharp planes of his face seemed magnified as the sun began to shine through the windows, and the darkness began to be replaced with light, the library now cast in an eerie purple haze. "And I was so happy earlier, too," she tacked on, letting her fingers run down the contours of his face, to his neck, his shoulder, then grasping his hand into hers.

"Do you think I would let you die?" he asked. She tucked her head into the crook of his neck and he felt the moisture of her tears. For the first time in his life, he felt like 'the strong one' and he didn't particularly like it.

"I'm scared," she mumbled. Her heart fluttered in her chest. Still crying, she clung to Theo and kissed his face, his chin, his nose, as she had longed to do all day.

"Me too," he agreed. "But we'll face this together and come to a conclusion."

He took her hand, leaving the mess of books and files for someone else to clean up. "Let's go explore," he said suddenly. "We haven't much time to finish task number 16!"

With her hand in his, he took her down hallways, up stairs, around tapestries, in dark alcoves, up towers, down to dungeons, and finally to the Room of Requirement. The opening appeared easily and they entered.

Hermione raised her eyebrows and said, "This must be your dream…because I wouldn't have come up with this." In front of them was a winding path, with tall grass on each side, and large shading oak and elm trees lining the path, with the branching bowing down to the ground.

The trees resembled soldiers, guarding places unknown. When the pair got to the center, there was a patch of earth so green and luscious that it denied description. There were all sorts of daisies and Queen Ann's lace, and other wildflowers, and even though there weren't any windows, just as in the Library, the sun was starting to rise, casting the entire room in a soft orange glow.

Theo bent down to pick up a few flowers and then he turned to Hermione and said "Here. They aren't perfect, but then again, who needs perfect?" He handed a few to her, placed a couple in her hair.

Hermione smiled, shook her head and said, "It's so beautiful, and of course, it's a part of Hogwarts I've never seen, so it fulfills number 16. Leave it to you, Theodore Nott."

She looked back up and she thought Theo's expression was indecipherable, until he pulled her into his arms. Brushing his lips lightly across her cheek, he whispered, "I want you, Hermione."

She had dreamt of this moment for the last three months, or maybe even longer. "Kiss me again, Theo," she said sincerely. "Kiss me, and kiss me, and make me forget about everything. Make it all go away. Make all the bad things hide away somewhere deep inside."

He hesitated for a moment. The fabric of their relationship was so fragile. He didn't know what to do with it. He didn't want to hurt or scare her or ever lie to her, yet by not telling her about the note from Blaise, he WAS lying to her.

Then he forgot everything when her arms went around his waist and her lips found his and she began to kiss him. Wasn't that just like Hermione Granger to take the lead in things if others weren't ready to do so?

And she led him to the soft glade of grass. She led him to undress, then she undressed. She lay on her back, opened her arms, and invited him into her tender warmth. He melted into her soft curves as if he was made to be there.

Dropping kisses to her eyes, her cheeks, her lips, while cushioned in the pillow of her thighs, he only asked one question. "Are you sure?"

When she said 'yes' it sounded like a plea, a prayer, a request, so he thrust into her warmth, the entire time his heart beating rapidly against his ribs, his pulse rushing blood everywhere, his eyes squeezing shut, his mouth opening in a sigh that sounded like a song.

It was as if she was an extension of him. Never before had he felt such a unity with another person. After it was done, they lay on the soft bed of grass and flowers, arms and legs entwined, clothes strewn everywhere, her head on his shoulder, hand on his chest, his hand on her stomach, writing out musical notes.

He was so happy, and yet so sad.

His hand continued to shape and feel her stomach, the soft gentle curve of it, the swell of the lower stomach, the dip of the ribcage. Suddenly, he sat up, placing her gently on the grass, then he hovered over her, both hands on her stomach, his long hair covering his face, and therefore his expression.

She was asleep. She didn't know what he was doing, or what he was thinking.

Because what he was thinking was…Damn his second sight and gift for healing! Theo sat back and stared at her as she slept, and continued to look at the swell of her stomach. Could this possibly save her, or was it too soon, too earlier? He would say she was approximately three months pregnant…that would make the father be Marcus, Blaise or Adrian. She slept with Adrian first, but the other two shortly afterwards. Thank Merlin it wasn't Malfoy…and if she were further along it would be Potters, because she slept with him about six months ago.

However, even if she delivered before her birthday, she would only be six months pregnant. Would that be far enough along to save her, and to deliver a healthy child? Was there a chance? Did she even know? He would rather think that she didn't.

What in the hell were they going to do now?

* * *

_*A/N What the helk, huh? Yep. That was always my plan, but that doesn't mean she'll have a baby. And I know I thought originally that this story would be about 40 chapters long…but now I will say 50, okay? I think I can wrap it up in about ten more chapters. Thanks!_


	41. Chapter 41 Glass Onion

**All characters belong to JKR**

***This chapter has mature themes...be advised**

**Chapter 41 – Glass Onion**

Relaxing in a nice, hot bath before getting ready for Draco's birthday ball, Hermione slid lower in the water, letting it sluice over her body, a smile gracing her face. Her little tabby cat, whom she was now calling 'Boo' because of the character in the book _To Kill a Mockingbird_, was sitting beside the tub, taking his own bath, in his own way.

Hermione turned her head to look at the kitten, which was getting bigger, and she said, "It's nice to be in love, Boo. It makes one rather forget all the troubles and strives in ones life." Then she turned her head back toward the wall, picked up her washcloth, lathered it with suds, and began dreamily to remember her early morning passion with Theodore Nott.

At one point this morning, when Hermione thought Theo was sleeping, she sat up on their makeshift bed of grass and flowers in the Room of Requirement with a smile hovering on her lips and she let her eyes peruse his body.

He wasn't shaped like the rest of the Vipers. He wasn't as tall as Marcus or Blaise, or as muscular. He was leaner like Draco, but not as lean as Adrian was. His hands were beautiful, as were his arms. She especially loved his chest and abdomen. Biting her bottom lip, her eyes stole a quick glance down to his appendage. It was larger than she thought it would be.

When she looked back up to his face, he was looking at her with a smile. "Do you like what you see, Miss Granger?"

She laughed. "It's acceptable," she answered mischievously. "Although I doubt it would fit on a coaster."

They both laughed at her joke.

Kneeling beside his body, she reached out a hand and drew it down him, her fingertips light upon his sensitive skin. Starting at his neck, down his chest, his ribcage, his flat stomach, she finally reached his erection, which was now bobbing straight upwards. Her hand grasped it lightly.

Theo reached up one hand and stroked her arm, his fingertips as feathery light upon her skin as she was upon his, up and down, almost as if they were playing a duet together.

"Do you know I never really liked to perform oral sex?" she suddenly announced. She kept her eyes on her hand and his penis, which was growing larger by the second.

He almost winced, then he almost laughed, but he took a deep breath, and continued to stoke the arm that was holding him, and he asked, "Why?" It seemed to be the thing to asked, because he really wanted to know, and because he wondered if she was going to perform the act on him.

She leaned over him slightly, propping her free hand on his hipbone near his groin, and she said, "It seemed rather distasteful, if you get my meaning."

Theo wanted to laugh so badly, or make a joke at her use of words, but he wouldn't. He couldn't…not at her. In addition, she had begun to move her hand up and down and it felt rather nice. "Have you ever done it?"

She looked up to his eyes with indignation and answered sharply, "Of course. I said I didn't like to do it, not that I've never done it. I believe I do it quite well, too."

He thought that was such a Hermione thing to say, which endeared her to him even more than he could imagine. "You don't have to do it on me," he offered, although the mere thought of it was almost sending him over the edge. He stopped moving his hand on her arm to clutch the grass at the side of his hip.

"Well, that's the thing," she said sincerely, in her best 'Hermione Granger' tone. "I don't think I'm opposed to fellatio with you."

Theo stifled the laugh that had been bubbling at the surface since this conversation began, then a groan of passion. "Fellatio?" he managed to ask, his hand now gripping her arm.

She nodded, her brows slightly together, her bottom lip still between her teeth, a look of intent on her face as she studied her hand on his erection.

Theo couldn't help but make light of the situation, so he said, "And if you did perform fellatio on me, would you expect cunnilingus in return?"

She looked into his eyes again and said, "Only if you wanted to."

He almost laughed again, but she looked so beautiful and honest. This was Hermione Granger in all her glory. Studying things, questioning things, going over things in her mind. He smiled at her, grabbed both shoulders and pulled her down to his chest, forcing her to relinquish his member, much to his dismay.

Rolling her to her back, he said, "I want to, but I wonder if we can find a coaster big enough to put you on first…" and he kissed her neck.

She began to laugh and hit his arm, a bit hard. "Are you making fun of me?"

Looking up at her he said, "Well come on, Miss Granger! Who calls it 'fellatio and cunnilingus' right before they're about to do it?"

She had a slightly hurt expression and said, "I thought we could discuss anything."

Bringing his thumb up to press away the crease between her brows, he kissed her mouth, the bottom lip first, then the top, before kissing them both. "Oh, we can, sweetheart. I'm sorry, so sorry." He began to kiss her face all over, mumbling his apologies. Finally, he looked at her and said, "Astoria never liked that particular act so I've never had it done."

Now Hermione looked shocked. "What?"

"Well, Astoria was my first," Theo answered.

Hermione moved from under his body, kneeled beside him again as he lay on his back, and looking down at him she said, "But surely you've had others since her, right?"

He shook his head no. "I guess I should have said she was my only."

"Who would have thought that I would ever be the person who had the most sexual experience of the two?" she said in wonder.

"And you got it all recently," he added with a real smile.

Placing a hand lightly on his stomach she asked, "Does that bother you?"

He was quiet for a moment, and then answered, "No, it really doesn't. It bothered me that Astoria loved Draco more than she loved me, and that she sometimes had sex with him, which I didn't find out until after she died and Draco admitted it to me, but it doesn't bother me that you've slept with all of them. Hmm, imagine that…it really doesn't."

With a crooked smile, soft eyes, and an expressive sigh, Hermione took a hold of him again and replied, "And this really doesn't bother me. I want to do this with you. I do."

Sinking back into the soft grass, he closed his eyes, but almost flew off the ground the moment her mouth touched him THERE. She was so soft, warm and inviting. Her lips were wet and warm, and at first, she merely kissed him around his tip, down his shaft. Then he felt her tongue lick the entire length of him, swirl around the tip again.

He could hear her breathing as well as 'feel' her breath, warm and wanting on his skin. He concentrated on the texture of her tongue, on the suction and the pull and slide. He tried to even his breathing, but it was as if she was learning something new, or perhaps she was teaching him something, but soon he found that his hand was in her hair, and he was breathing hard and ragged, and then words like, "Please," and "Yes," and, "Gads," was coming out of his mouth.

When he felt that he was going to come, he pushed her away, moved her so that she was underneath him, and then pushed into her once more. His climax was almost immediate, and it seemed that so was hers. He collapsed down upon her, and for the life of him, he couldn't move for the longest time.

And she didn't care. She wanted him on top of her. She loved the feel of his heavy weight upon her, the feel of his heartbeat next to hers, his sweat upon her body. It made her feel more alive than she had felt in a long time, so she wrapped her arms around him and held him so close that she imagined they were one person. When he finally moved, he moved so that she was moved to be on top of him. She liked that. Theo was so protective and caring like that.

She looked down at him and smiled, but he was asleep. Sitting up, she looked down at the small swell of her belly, then pushed all thoughts out of her mind, cuddled back against his side, and went back to sleep.

Now, while washing in the tub, her hand with the washcloth went to her stomach and she couldn't help but wish that the child that she absolutely knew was growing in there was Theo's…but it couldn't be. It was probably Blaise's, because Adrian and Marcus had both used protection, but Blaise hadn't.

Oh how could she have been so stupid! So foolish! How had she not realized until now that she was probably pregnant?

Standing from the tub, she grabbed a towel, dried off, and then looked at her naked body in the mirror. "How could I be so careless? I can't be pregnant! Bloody damn, that's why I didn't want a cat – because I knew I'd die and leave it alone, but a baby! That's different, and I'll die _before_ the baby's even born. I don't even know if this fulfills the task on my list or not! Oh shite. What am I going to do?"

Wrapping the towel around her, she stepped over her cat and walked out of the open bathroom door only to see a familiar face staring right at her.

And in shock he asked, "You're pregnant? Fuck, Hermione! How could you?"

.

Down one floor, Theo Nott had already showered and shaved, but had not yet dressed for Draco's birthday celebration. He didn't even really want to go. With a towel on his hips, he flopped on his bed (even though he really wanted to go play the piano for a while) and with one arm over his eyes, he thought about the early morning escapades with Hermione.

He recalled after she performed 'oral sex' on him, they both slept for a while again, and then he awoke, placed a hand on her stomach, realized she was pregnant somehow, felt the bile of bittersweet remorse that went with that realization, lay back on his side to try to go back to sleep, but he just couldn't.

So instead, he studied her the way she tried to study him earlier. But he studied her with kisses. He knew it would awaken her, but he didn't care. He kissed her everywhere. He had to get to know her better, if only to remember her forever. He kissed every little patch of skin, pale and shining, and they both began to breath harder.

He turned her around, kissed her down her spine, each vertebra, her skin so pale and sweet, eliciting soft moans and groans from her. He kissed the gentle curves and swells of her buttocks and hips; he turned her back around and kissed down each leg, each milky-white thigh, each dimpled knee, each foot and all ten toes.

Back up he went, kissing her navel, her ribs, the underside of each breasts, then each arm, wrist, and fingers. He went back to her chest, kissed above her heart and whispered right into her chest how much he loved her. Then he kissed around each breast, each nipple, finally taking first one into his mouth, then the other, sucking them in, pulling them, even as she gasped and arched and called his name.

He went back down in a straight line directly to the very core of her, where she was the most sensitive, her skin pink and warm and the most inviting. To be honest, he never really liked this either, but with her, it seemed to be natural. He couldn't wait to taste her.

He placed his mouth upon her, licked her, kissed her, and she was so wonderful, made for him, that he couldn't believe he had waited so long for this. Placing her legs over his shoulders, he continued as she said things like "no" and "stop" along with sighs and cries of "yes" and "please".

He knew that she didn't really want him to stop, because he could hear her breathy sighs and slight moans of passion. His hands held her hips in place, although one hand came around to help his tongue, which drove her higher and higher, moving mercilessly. He felt as if he was playing a symphony on her body, and she was reaching the final crescendo. Finally, she began to move with him, moaned and called out a final, "Yes," right before she called out his name.

"Theo!"

Once again, he knew when she was about to climax, to come. He moved up her body, climbed on top of her, and drove into her, harder than before, her legs still over his shoulders, her hips off the ground, and afterwards, they both finally slept until it was afternoon and they had to leave to come back to London. It was time to get ready for Draco's party.

Just remembering it all made him hot and hard. Closing his eyes, he slipped a hand under his towel, to grasp his hard erection when he heard a man clear his voice. He opened his eyes in shock, sitting up suddenly in his bed, scooting up against the headboard, the towel bunching around his hips.

"Fucking Hell!" Theo shouted to Blaise.

Blaise propped his shoulder against the doorjamb, a pleased smile on his face. "Please continue. I don't want to interrupt whatever it is you were doing. In fact, if I can be of assistance in anyway, let me know."

"Don't you believe in knocking?" Theo moved so he was sitting on the side of his bed. He grabbed a pillow and placed it over his still hard, but slightly deflated erection, as he tried (in vain) to right the towel around his waist.

"I did knock, I swear," Blaise said, still smiling, although he hadn't, not at all. "Don't you believe in locks?" He invited himself into Theo's bedroom and closed the door, then locked it.

"Why should I have to lock doors in my own effing house?" Theo said tersely.

Blaise held up his hands defensively, and asked, "What's with the attitude? And what's with the wanking off? Didn't you get any with the little cub while you were gone?"

"Fuck off and get out of my room!" Theo pointed toward the door.

Blaise just continued to smile. "I'll take that as a no." He sat down next to him on the bed.

Theo hung his head. "Sometimes I wish I lived alone!"

Blaise placed a hand on Theo's bare back, moving it up and down. "Seriously, did it not go well?"

"No, it went splendidly, although I won't talk about it with you," Theo said upon a sigh. "I was just thinking about it when you walked in."

Blaise moved slightly closer and said, "You were doing more than thinking about it. You were reliving it." He laughed again, bumped his shoulder into his friend's shoulder, and said, "Did you get my note about the cure while you were there."

"Oh, yes, I have to talk to you about that later, but not now, but I do have a favour to ask," Theo implored, looking at Blaise beseechingly.

Blaise's strong hand moved up to Theo's shoulder. "What? You can ask me anything."

"Don't tell Hermione or the other Vipers about the cure yet, I mean, I know Marcus was with you, but don't tell Draco or Adrian. Just, not yet, please. I'll explain more after the ball."

Blaise nodded when he saw the serious look in Theo's eyes. "Sure, sweetheart, I won't tell."

Theo realized that Blaise called him the same thing he called Hermione earlier, and he rather liked it. That complicated things slightly. "I have another request," Theo asked.

Blaise moved his hand from Theo's shoulder down his arm to his wrist, and then he grabbed his hand. "What?"

Theo took a moment, then said, "Slughorn might have told me a cure, incase 'the list' cure doesn't work, and no matter what, I want your promise that you'll help me with it. Will you?"

"Of course, anything to save our cub," he promised, leaning over and kissing Theo on the shoulder. Leaning away, he said, "Anything else you want from me? My blood, my soul, my first born child?" Blaise laughed.

Theo frowned, thinking about Hermione's pregnancy and said, "Well, perhaps."

"What?" Blaise asked, confused.

"Never mind, we'll talk about it later. I think I need to go take another shower…a cold one. Tell the lads I'll meet them at the Manor, and someone should escort Hermione there." Theo removed the pillow from his lap, and started to stand, straightening the towel around his hips.

"Here, let me help with that," Blaise said, although Theo didn't take his meaning at first. With both hands on Theo's shoulders, he pushed him back to sit on the side of the bed. Then he kneeled in front of him. Theo's eyes widen in shock.

"What are you about to do?" Theo asked.

"I'm about to help you," Blaise said, his eyes never leaving Theo's eyes, although both hands went to Theo's thighs.

Rough hands went under the towel, and at first Theo was going to stop him, but then he realized that this man loved him…really loved him, and he loved him too, and even if everything was new and confusing to him…things regarding sex and love and showing emotions, he trusted Blaise as much as he trusted Hermione.

"I'll go slowly," Blaise said, understanding that Theo was slightly scared, taken aback, shocked. "We wouldn't want you to be so shocked that you jump out of your skin," he added with a laugh.

His right hand moved from Theo's thigh to grab Theo's hand. Then holding Theo's hand in his, he placed both their hands back on Theo's now once again swollen erection, still hidden under a towel. "Is this how you were stroking yourself?" Blaise asked. His thumb and fingers glided over the top of Theo's hand, as Theo's palm slid over the sensitive skin of his swollen penis.

Blaise wrapped his hand tighter around Theo's and Theo winced slightly. He shifted their joined hands higher, then moved them down again and over the tip, wet now, then back up, moving the wetness around with the tip of his thumb. Then his hand tightened and moved faster, Theo's hand still under his.

Theo's hips started to move. He couldn't help but to fall backwards on the bed, and Blaise fell backwards with him, so he was on his side beside him, but their eyes continued to stare at each other, their breaths both razor sharp, Theo's a bit faster, Blaise's a bit shallower.

Then Blaise dropped Theo's hand, squeezed hard a few more times, and then they both swore in a fury of movement and madness. Blaise wrapped Theo erection and his hand in the towel as Theo came, and both men sank on the mattress, Theo spent with eyes closed, Blaise surprised with eyes open.

"Is that what you wanted?" Blaise whispered in Theo's ear.

Theo could only nod.

"I told you I would do anything for you, and I always will," Blaise whispered. Then he kissed the other man's cheek, moving from the bed, wiping his hand on the towel. "Go get another shower. I'll wash off in the guest loo and meet you downstairs in ten minutes. Don't worry about the little cub. Someone's already upstairs to take her to the Manor." He moved off the bed and headed for the door.

"Blaise?"

Blaise turned around to find Theo once again sitting up on the side of the bed, a pillow again covering his midsection.

"What?"

"When Adrian and Marcus had sex with Hermione, do you think they used protection?"

Blaise barked out a laugh and said, "Of course they did. Adrian always uses protection, and Marcus has used protection for years, so that Daphne won't get herself a brat. Why do you ask?"

"Did you?" He looked up to the other man's eyes.

"Did I what?" Blaise moved back toward the room.

"Did you use protection when you slept with Hermione?"

Blaise glared at Theo for a moment, then started back toward the door, throwing the towel on the floor. "I always use protection." Then he stopped cold, turned back and said, "But that day I wasn't expecting to have sex, so…well…I guess I didn't. Why?"

"Go down stairs. I'll tell you later." Theo threw the pillow on the floor next to the soiled towel and headed toward the bathroom.

Blaise sat on the bed and decided to wait for him, because he wanted to know what he meant NOW.


	42. Chapter 42 Birthday

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 42 – Birthday**

_They say it's your birthday,_

_It's my birthday too,_

_They say it's your birthday,_

_Happy birthday to you._

_Lennon & McCartney_

* * *

Hermione Granger hadn't seen Harry Potter since she went to Peru over two months ago to try to convince him, Ron, Bill and Charlie Weasley to come home, and yet here he was now, standing before her in the flesh. And he'd heard her admit (aloud, to herself) that she KNEW she was pregnant. Furthermore, he didn't seem happy about the news.

She'd known Harry Potter since he was eleven years old, and in the years that followed she'd seen every facet of his personality. She'd seen him sad. She'd seen him disappointed. She'd seen him in the depths of despair and happy beyond belief. She'd seen him cry. She'd seen him angry. She'd seen him kill people because he had no choice, and she'd comforted him a multitude of times for a multitude of reasons. He had done the same for her.

If anyone would ask her, she would say that she loved Harry Potter more than she loved anyone else on the face of the earth. More than she loved Ron, though he was a close second. More than she loved Theo, or the other Vipers, although really that was a different sort of love. More than she had loved her own parents, she was ashamed to admit. He was a brother, a friend, her other half to her whole, her pseudo-conscience, her everything.

And never once in her life did she ever think she would see the hurt expression on his face that she saw at the moment that he said, "You're pregnant? Fuck, Hermione! How could you?" when she stepped over her cat and walked out of the open bathroom door.

More shocking still was what happened next. She drew back her hand and struck him in the face as hard as she could, while she stared right into his wide green eyes.

His hand came up to hold his scalding hot cheek and she said, "Don't you dare pass judgment on me, Harry Potter! Not you, of all people!"

Walking straight toward her bedroom, she left him behind in the outer room and began to dress, angry and slightly embarrassed. She was embarrassed because she had used physical assault against her friend. She was angry for the same reason. She was confused because she hadn't yet sorted things out, since she had just realized she was pregnant earlier this afternoon.

Dressing quickly in a frilly dress that Draco had sent over, she tried to recall when she had her last menstrual cycle and couldn't. Usually she kept track of such things, but lately her mind had been on other important things…like dying, and also on her list, which was currently out in the open, unfolded on the top of her dresser. Walking over to the dresser while she continued to dress, she counted off the number of things she'd completed thus far. Of the sixteen items on the first page she had done eleven. She wondered if going to Draco's birthday ball tonight could be counted as '_swimming with sharks' _as Theo had suggested to her earlier?

She was still staring at the list when she felt (rather than heard) a man at her back. He began to zip up her dress. "How many have you completed?" he asked over her shoulder.

"Eleven," she said softly. "I just counted." She ran her fingers down the well-worn piece of paper, then folded it again and placed it back in her book. "At first I thought it was just ten, but I forgot about _'climbing the mountain'_ because it wasn't literal, it was figurative. I think a couple of the others were figurative as well, but that's fine."

"Hmm," he replied, nodding, not caring in the least apparently.

"That's why I wondered if I could count tonight as 'swimming with the sharks' because it would be figuratively, too." She turned back to the dresser and began to put on her jewelry.

He stood behind her, watched in the mirror and said, "What the hell is going on here, Hermione? Are you really pregnant?"

"I haven't gone to St. Mungo's yet, but I think so. Probably about three months, so don't worry, it's not yours. I almost wish it was yours, because that would mean I'd be about six months along." She picked up her brush and began to brush her hair.

"What difference would that make?" he asked, heaving his shoulder in a sigh.

Dropping her brush to the dresser, she removed the second part of her list from her book, turned to him and said, "Why are you here?"

"Malfoy sent us an Owl telling us they found the cure to the curse. He said all you had to do was complete your list, although Bill and I both have some doubts, but at least it's more than we found, so we decided to come back."

With that explanation, she handed him the second part of her list. "My original list had twenty items on it, Harry. Twenty. Here's the second part. I've only shown it to Theo so far."

Harry read the short list, only blinking once as his eyes scanned the page, then closing them all together as his fingers deftly folded the piece of parchment back along its original lines, before he handed it back to her. "I thought there was more all along. Why didn't you tell us about this?"

Shrugging, she said, "Why would I? For one thing, I knew I couldn't complete these last things in the time I had left, and for another, never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that by making a list I was finding a cure to this curse."

Harry's eyes closed again.

She reached over, grabbed his hand and said, "Harry, please, don't tell anyone yet. Let's go to this party tonight and get through it and then we'll find out what we can about this cure, and see if we can finish my list – see if it will cure me."

Opening his eyes he said, "I'm sorry I reacted the way I did about the news of your possible pregnancy. I was shocked, that's all."

She hugged him, nodded, and placed her head on his chest.

"Do you know who the father is?" he asked, his hand coming up to cup the back of her head.

"I think its Blaise Zabini, but it could be Marcus or Adrian."

"Thank goodness it's not Malfoy," Harry laughed.

Downstairs Theo had began to dress, and he also had started to explain the second part of Hermione's list to Blaise, as well as the anti-curse that Slughorn had told him. Frankly, if Theo had told him about Slughorn's cure before he made him promise he would help him, Blaise wouldn't have made such a promise, but there were always ways around promises such as these.

The most shocking thing Theo told Blaise was that the little Gryffindor, their little cub, was pregnant, and the child was more than likely his, Marcus' or Adrian's. Blaise didn't even flinch while Theo told him these things, mostly because he could see the pain etched in his friend's face.

"So don't tell anyone about the list anti-curse right now, not until we know for sure that she's pregnant, or that the anti-curse will even work, please," Theo pleaded.

Blaise looked at the floor.

Then he looked up at his dearest friend, the man he was falling in love with, and said, "I can't promise that. For one thing, Marcus might have already told them, or Adrian and Draco might have already found out the same thing. I think they might have, because they Owled Potter and Weasley to come home and I don't think they would have done that if they hadn't found out the same thing we did. If Corner found it out, then I'd bet a million galleons that Adrian and Draco did as well."

"How do you know Draco Owled Potter?" Theo asked, tying his Muggle tie while looking in a mirror. He gave up with an exasperated sigh.

Blaise stood behind him and tied his tie for him, explaining as he did, "Potter's upstairs. He's the one who's going to escort Hermione to the Manor tonight. Oddly enough, Malfoy invited him to his party." Blaise plopped on the bed and looked up at the ceiling. "Do you have anything else to tell me?"

"No, that's it." Slipping on his jacket, he added, "But I will request that you keep her pregnancy and the second part of her list quiet for now."

Blaise stood and walked up to Theo. Brushing away wrinkles and lint from the shoulders and arms of the other man's jacket, he said, "That I will promise, but that's the only promise that I've made tonight that I promise to keep."

Theo looked disappointed, but Blaise decided it couldn't be helped. He pushed Theo out of the bedroom and said, "Let's go. We'll be late." Once down in the foyer, they Disapparated to the Manor, arriving in the entrance of the grand ballroom almost at the same time that Hermione and Harry Potter arrived.

Hermione ran into Theo's arms. "Harry knows everything," she admitted.

"So does Blaise."

She looked over Theo's shoulders toward the handsome black man. "You do?" she asked.

His mouth felt dry and he found he could hardly speak. "Let's get in there," Blaise replied. He walked past them toward the ballroom. He didn't want to think about Hermione Granger, babies, or people dying tonight. He wanted to get pissed out of his mind.

Harry hung back as Theo and Hermione slipped into the ballroom, but he felt someone at his side. "Potter," he heard in a familiar drawl.

Without turning his head he said, "Happy birthday, Ferret face."

"Did you get me a present?" Malfoy asked. "Say, perhaps, a suicide so we'll have a world free from scar-headed people named Potter?"

Harry turned his head slightly to look at Draco Malfoy. "Not bloody likely."

"Good, because I'd probably miss you. Wouldn't want to ruin the nice relationship we've built over the years," Draco surmised. "Granger looks happy, doesn't she?" He nodded his head toward Hermione and Theo. "And with the list anti-curse, she'll be cured in no time. Her list is almost completed."

Harry shook his head, peered at the man who had been the bane of his existence for the last sixteen years and said, "You're a fool, Malfoy."

Draco frowned. "I refuse to let anyone call me a fool at my own birthday ball, Scarhead. And whatever do you mean by that statement?"

Harry turned to look Theo and Hermione out on the floor of the ballroom. They were smiling at each other. They looked happy. They looked like they were in love. "Her list contained twenty items, not sixteen, hence the reason it was called, '_The twenty items I want to do before I die_', Malfoy," Harry spat, turning back to Malfoy.

Draco took a moment to digest this tidbit from his biggest foe. "What are the other four items?"

"Getting married, finding true love, having a baby, and oh yes," Harry added, taking a deep breath, "find a cure and living a long, healthy life."

Draco felt like Harry had knocked all the wind out of his sails. "Leave off, Potter. You can't be serious."

"Deadly so, Malfoy," Harry said gravely.

Draco grabbed the back of Harry's jacket and pulled him toward a small anteroom off the large ballroom. Harry was too shocked and surprised to fight, so he went willingly. Adrian and Marcus were entering through the arched doorway at the same moment so they quickly followed to see the melee, which would surely follow.

"Hand's off, Malfoy," were Harry's first words, as he straightened his jacket.

"What do you mean that Hermione's list has twenty items?" Draco barked.

Adrian looked at Marcus at that exact moment, though Marcus was staring with dread at Harry Potter. "What ARE you speaking of, Potter?" Marcus asked aloud.

Blaise entered from the other door of the anteroom, a drink in his hand, and he asked solemnly, "Yes, we'd all liked to know what you mean, Potter." Blaise already knew from Theo, but still he asked.

So Harry Potter explained. He explained it all. How Hermione sat in the room at St. Mungo's on the day before he and Ron left for Peru and she made her list, though she hid half of it in her book, and though he knew she hid half he never pressed her about it, and didn't find out about the rest of the list until tonight.

Then he told them the most shocking news of all…news that wasn't his to tell…news which only one of them knew, because Theo had relented and had told Blaise right before they left to come tonight.

After Harry told this news, Draco Malfoy plopped into a chair in the corner of the small room, sighed a ragged sigh and then said, "Happy fucking birthday to me, I need a scotch, make it a double." Blaise rose and handed his drink to Draco, who downed it in one drink.

Adrian swallowed the bile that rose in his throat, wondered if the child could still be his, and calculated that it probably wasn't, then turned to face the only window. It was dark outside. He couldn't see anything. He didn't care.

Marcus leaned against the wall, looked down at the parquet floor, his eye drawn to the intricate pattern, wondering why someone would have such a fancy floor in a room that was just a small anteroom off a ballroom. In other words, he was trying hard NOT to think about Hermione Granger's additional list, or her pregnancy, or something else that happened right before he came to the ball tonight.

Blaise sat in the only other chair, slouching low, his long legs out so far that the other men would be forced to step over them if they wanted to walk through the room. He threw his head back and looked up at the ceiling. He began to calculate in his mind how they could fulfill the last four things on her list.

Harry Potter looked from one man to the other and then he said, "What's going on with Hermione and all of you?"

Blaise looked at him first, though the other three looked at him shortly after. "We love her, Potter. We've all grown to love her, in different ways, but yeah, we love her."

His gaze narrowed on Blaise. "You better find a way to finish her list."

"What do you think we've been doing, Lord Potter?" Draco bellowed behind him, forcing Harry to turn and look at him.

"I'm serious, Malfoy. She doesn't have much time. We need to figure out a way she can finish all twenty items on her list."

"I need to see her list," Adrian said, still looking out the window. "The wording of the last four items is the key to things." Finally he turned to look at them.

Harry walked toward Adrian, stepping over Blaise's legs, and said, "I think you've done enough, Pucey. You're the reason she's in this mess in the first place. If I had my way, you would have been found guilty when the Wizengamot looked into your culpability into this whole mess. So excuse me if I don't quite trust you."

"But he's right, Potter," Draco said with an even tone. "We do need to see the last page of the list. The wording is the key, and likewise, we need to have some sort of spell to make certain that the things we've done thus far have really fulfilled the tasks we've done. I mean, as you all can all tell, we didn't really cut my father's hair, which was the first task on the list Hermione and I did."

Blaise sat forward in his seat and said, "What did you do for that task?"

Draco pulled at his tie. He felt uncomfortable, especially with Potter watching him, but he finally said, "We painted a portrait of my father with short hair. Actually, we gave him a pink Mohawk, I believe Granger called it."

Marcus frowned a bit and asked, "You paint?"

"Yes!" he practically shouted back. "Why? Does that surprise you?"

"A bit," Marcus admitted. "You've never given us any indication that you paint."

"So?" Draco looked to the floor like a spoiled toddler.

Blaise stood, walked around Harry, and patted Draco's shoulder. "I think that's great, Malfoy."

Draco looked up and saw that Blaise was actually smiling. He expected that he would be making fun of him, so he thought he would have to defend himself, but when he saw that he wouldn't, he nodded and said, "Thanks."

Adrian regained his composure and said, "Malfoy's right, but of course. We need to make sure that the things we've done thus far really fulfills the rights of the anti-curse. Some of the things she's done have been symbolically. Theo told me earlier that tonight's ball was counting as her _'swimming with the sharks'_, but what if it really doesn't?"

"But what if it counts because it's her list and it what she thinks that matters?" Marcus inquired. "And how will we know until September rolls around? And even then, she's only a few months pregnant..."

Blaise interrupted with, "About three months."

"Okay, three months pregnant. Fine, it's the first week of June, and her birthday's the first part of September. She'll be six months pregnant when her birthday rolls around. Will that fulfill having a child? It would have fulfilled being pregnant, if she had said that on her list, but did she say that?" Marcus asked, gazing from man to man.

"I'll consult with Bill Weasley," Harry asked.

"No," said Adrian.

Harry cut him off with, "You don't have a say. I'll consult him, but I won't go into specifics. I won't tell anyone she's pregnant, or what's been going on, but we need to see if there's a way to find out if she's completing her list, and even if there's anything to this cure."

Blaise gave a derisive laugh and said, "Theo didn't want Draco and Adrian to know about the cure."

"How did you guys even know about it?" Draco asked.

"We knew from Corner. He discovered it," Marcus replied. "And you?"

"Records from the Ministry, regarding Connell," Draco responded back. "Did you tell Theo?"

Marcus cocked his head toward Blaise. "He must have. I told him not to. Did you tell Granger?"

"I didn't, but Pucey must have," Malfoy said.

"Guilty," Adrian said, meaning so much with that one word. "Listen chaps, let's try to get through Malfoy's birthday ball, alright? Let's try to have some fun, and we'll worry about all of this tomorrow."

"Yeah, right load of fun it will be for my parents to announce my upcoming marriage to Pansy," Draco moaned, sinking back into the chair in the corner.

Blaise laughed and said, "Pug-faced Parkinson!"

Harry made a funny face. "You're marrying Pansy Parkinson?"

"Not by choice, Potter!" he shouted. "But I have to marry a pureblood, as my family is one of the last few pureblood families there are, and there aren't many pureblood women my age out there. I was betrothed to Astoria from birth, and we all know what happen with that."

"My condolences," Harry offered sincerely, patting Draco's arm before leaving the small room to go back to the ballroom.

"I don't want to go back to the ball," Draco said, "Maybe an accident could befall me before I go back out there?"

"You could fall and hit your head," Blaise said, sitting back down in the other chair. "I'll let you trip over my legs." He placed his legs out far, crossing them at the ankles. "Okay, just trip over them. The room is small. You're bound to hit your head on something sharp and pointy."

"I don't see any sharp objects in here," Adrian said with a smile, "but perhaps you could act as if you were peering up at the sky, and fall through the window. It's the first floor, but it's still a nice drop."

"I could use an Unforgivable on you," Marcus obliged. "Merlin knows I've always wanted to."

"Ah…gee chaps," Draco smirked, "You're such great friends."

Just then his father popped his head into the room from the door that led directly from the ballroom. "Why are you hiding in here, Draco? It's unbecoming, and you need to come back out immediately and greet your guests."

Draco stood. "I'm not exactly hiding, sir. We're having a meeting of the Viper's club. An emergency meeting, regarding Hermione Granger, and that's the truth and I'll be along when I can. Also, I didn't ask for this big birthday ball, so in a way, they're your guests, not mine, so you should greet them, not me."

Lucius stared at his son for a moment, a bit shocked that he had spoken back to him. "I'm not certain what's gotten into you, boy, and I'm not sure I like it."

Draco walked toward his father and said, "As of today I'm twenty-six years old, Father. Don't you think that makes me a man, not a boy?"

All was quiet in the little room at that pronouncement. It was as if the air was sucked right out of the room. Marcus went to stand next to Adrian, and Blaise stood from his chair and went to stand on Adrian's other side.

Lucius looked Draco up and down, then said, "Yes, you're right, you're a man, but you will always be my son, and sometimes I may forget that, so forgive me. It doesn't mean that I don't respect you, because I do. It merely means that I love you."

"I know that, Father," Draco said softly.

"Well, hurry with your meeting and then come along." Lucius turned to leave.

"Father, one other thing," Draco said. Lucius turned to face him. "I'm not marrying Pansy Parkinson."

Lucius gave off one small laugh. "Of course you aren't. Do you think I want to have pug-faced grandchildren."

Blaise couldn't hold back a small laugh, while Draco looked surprised at that statement.

Lucius glanced quickly at Marcus, then said, "Now that Daphne Greengrass is finally free of Marcus Flint over there, I've decided she'd be a much better wife for you, and she and her family has agreed to my terms. We had to make quick work of it, as it all happened so fast, but the announcement will be made later this evening, son. Now hurry with your meeting and come out and greet your guests."

Draco watched his father leave, then turned slowly to look at his three friends, stopping his gaze at Marcus. "Daphne's finally free? What's my father talking about, Flint?"

Adrian pushed Marcus with his shoulder and repeated, "What is Lucius going on about?"

Marcus took a restorative breath, sat in the chair where Blaise had sat earlier and said, "After Blaise and I met with Corner I went home and told Daphne that it was over. I never really loved her the way I should have loved her. I mean, I've always, always loved her, as I love all of you, but not as someone loves someone who wants to spend the rest of their lives with them. Not as someone who wants to have children with them."

"What did she say?" Adrian prompted, his hand coming to rest on the other man's shoulder.

"Hardly a thing, except that she agreed, and it was a long time coming, and she was glad I finally did it, because she didn't think she would ever have been brave enough to do it. She packed her things right then and there and went home." Marcus looked up at Draco. "But I had no clue she'd agree to this…this…I don't know…madness. She must be on the rebound. I'll talk to her if you'd like, Malfoy. I'll tell her not to do it."

Draco walked the short distance toward the other man and said, "Oh, so marrying me is madness, is it? Well, maybe she would prefer me to you, have you thought of that? And maybe this isn't such a bad deal for either of us. You just leave things be, Flint." He headed toward the door, opened it and looked back at the other three and repeat, "Just leave things be. It's my birthday after all, so happy birthday to me." He walked through the door and disappeared.

Marcus stood, still shocked. He, Adrian, and Blaise were left in the small anteroom, all slightly dazed. Adrian finally shrugged and said, "It's his birthday, so we'll leave it be, and as he said, happy birthday to him." He followed Draco out the door.

Marcus looked at Blaise and said, "But Daphne can't marry Malfoy!"

"Why not?" Blaise asked, slinging his arm across Marcus' shoulder. "If you don't want to marry her, why can't Malfoy marry her? Seems to me, Flint, that it's a wonderful birthday present that you're giving Malfoy. Now instead of pug-nosed children someday, his children will be beautiful, like him, because Daphne's a beautiful girl."

Blaise laughed then pushed the still slightly dazed Marcus back into the ballroom.


	43. Chapter 43 Strawberry Fields Forever

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 43 – Strawberry Fields Forever**

_Living is easy with eyes closed,_

_Misunderstanding all you see,_

_It's getting easy to be someone,_

_But it's all works out,_

_It doesn't matter much to me,_

_Let me take you down,_

_Cause I'm going to,_

_Strawberry Fields,_

_Nothing is real,_

_And nothing to get hung about,_

_Strawberry Fields forever._

_Always known sometimes, think it's me,_

_But you know I know when it's a dream,_

_I think a no will mean a yes,_

_But it's all wrong,_

_That is I think I disagree._

_Lennon/McCartney_

* * *

Standing by the buffet table while Theo wasn't far away, Hermione looked out at the crowd of people around her and suddenly she felt quite lightheaded and numb, almost nauseous. There was a prickly feeling at the back of her neck, and she could feel beads of sweat pop out on her forehead. Her hands felt warm and itchy. She was an outsider looking in – not only because she was a Muggle-born in a sea of pureblood elitist who thought they were better than she was. Not only because she was a Muggle-born witch who KNEW she was better than they were, but because she was a fake, a phony, a liar, in short - a fraud.

This wasn't a place were she wanted or needed to be right now. These people didn't particularly want her here, and she didn't really want to be here.

She longed to be home on her sofa, her kitten by her side, wrapped in the warmth of her brown jumper, reading a good book. She wanted to forget about everything and everyone, just as she had been doing for the last few months. Only then, could she forget about possibly dying, or forget about the baby inside her, for which she was in denial. She could forget about her list. Forget about the Vipers. Forget about Theo and Blaise.

It was an odd situation to be sure. She was only here because it was Draco Malfoy's birthday AND because it might fulfill one of her tasks. Leaning over to reach for a crystal glass full of punch, she had just lifted it to her lips when felt a finger go up the silky soft material of the back of her dress to rest on bare skin under her long hair.

Shivering, she spied Theo near the archway talking to Adrian and Draco. Marcus was speaking to Daphne. Harry was talking to the Minister of Magic. That only left… "Hello, Blaise," she said without warmth, turning around while placing the glass of punch on the edge of the long table. She was aware that she was shaking and she could do nothing about that, not that she cared if he saw her shaking or not.

"Good evening, beautiful girl," he said with a lazy smile, leaning close so he could give her a kiss on the cheek. He took her hands in one of his. She tried to pull away, but he held fast. "I approve of the dress. I don't recall seeing that in your closet the day we played dress up. If I had, I would have remembered it. Where did it come from?"

"Draco sent it over today," she answered without a smile; she looked down at the silver cocktail dress, then back up in his eyes. "I think he was afraid that I might show up in my favourite brown jumper and embarrass him or something."

He laughed, dropped her hands so that he could pick up two glasses of champagne in one hand and said, "I would have paid to see you do just that. Something's wrong, isn't it?" Before she could respond he said, "Come with me." Reaching for her hand again with his free hand, he pulled her through the mass of bodies toward the same little anteroom where the Vipers and Harry had met only an hour or so before. Pushing her in ahead of him, he said, "I must speak with you for a moment." He closed the door and tacked on, "Alone."

"Apparently," she replied, slightly amused. "Shall I sit or stand? Is this an inquisition, or something slightly less formal?"

"I don't really care what you do," he answered, handing her a glass, then taking it right back from her as if he had a second thought. "Do either, or neither." He sat on the seat by the window where he had sat earlier, legs out long like before, and said, "I, however, shall sit and have a drink. I was about to offer you one, but you really shouldn't drink right now, should you?"

Eyeing him carefully, she asked, "Are you in a bad mood?"

"A bad mood? Why would I be in a bad mood?" He raised one eyebrow, then drained the first glass of champagne, placed the flute on the floor before he picked up the second glass.

"Listen, Blaise, I'm really not into this right now. Whatever's bothering you can wait until after Draco's birthday. Let's get back out there." She leaned over, grabbed one of his hands, and lifted it from the arm of the chair. Placing it in both of hers, she pulled, but he remained right where he was, even though she pulled hard.

Dropping his hand in defeat, she leaned against the door that led to the ballroom while spying another door, wondering where it led. She could hear the soft drone of voices and muted strains of music drifting into the room and for some reason the noise grated on her nerves like the sound of someone moving their fingernails down a chalkboard. She felt a headache coming on and she felt Blaise's bad mood was contagious, or perhaps she was in the first stages of a bad mood before he even spoke to her.

Seeing Blaise stare at her under hooded eyes bothered her even more. Without cognizant thought, her hand went to her stomach, and he seemed to shift in his seat. She moved closer toward the door and repeated, "I'm not getting into anything with you tonight."

"Define 'getting into' anything, darling girl," he said, draining the second glass dry, and then looking down at his fingernails. "Do you mean telling me about the child you're carrying that might be mine?"

Hermione walked over to the other chair, the one in the corner by the other door, and slumped into it. "Who told you?"

"The point is that you didn't," he said in the same dry tone.

"I just figured it out myself," she revealed. That wasn't true. It really wasn't true. She wished it were true. It wasn't.

He snorted derisively and said, "I rather doubt that. I bet you've suspected since the first day you missed your monthly, but because you're not acting quite like yourself these days, you chose to ignore it."

Hermione didn't like that this man had summed up everything that was wrong with her in one brief sentence. That bothered her more than anything else had bothered her tonight. She rose from the chair, her mouth a firm line and she walked over to the man who still seemed relaxed in the other chair. Pointing a finger at him she said, "Don't you dare act as if you know me! Don't you dare try to act as if you've me figured out! Don't put me in a little box, wrap it up in a bow, and put a tag on it and say…here's Hermione Granger folks! You of all people have no right to do that, Blaise Zabini! You have no idea what I've been going through these last few months! No clue at all! So don't sit there and act as if you do!"

He stood slowly, pushed her finger out of his way with a careless swipe of his hand and then started to applaud. "Wonderful speech. Full of anger. Not what I expected from you, but it's better than the shell of a person whose been impersonating our little cub for the last couple of months or longer."

"WHAT?" she almost shouted. "What are you going on about now?"

"It doesn't matter, you'll figure it out," he decided. "Just tell me, is the kid mine?"

"How would I know?" she squealed. "I've been acting like a female you for the last few months – sleeping with everything and everyone in trousers, so it could be anyone's!"

He placed his hand over his heart and said, "Ouch, love, that hurts, it does! And for your information, I sleep with everything and everyone in trousers AND skirts."

Sighing with exasperation, she put a hand to her forehead and said, "Please, my head is pounding, I feel as if I might throw up, and I don't want to argue! Let's go out there and support Draco. This night will be difficult for him and difficult for Marcus and Daphne as well. Can't we just do that? Please? I want to fulfill my task and then go home."

She grabbed his hand again and tried to pull him toward the door. He barely moved. Turning back to face him she asked, "WHAT NOW?"

"Tell me what you really want, little cub? What is your fervent wish?"

"Are you joking? Are you drunk?" she bellowed. "Please!" She turned to leave, but he grabbed her arm.

"I know about the second part of your list, too. We all do," he revealed, pulling her around to face him.

She looked beyond shocked. She brooded over that statement for a moment. They all knew. Everyone knew. Harry must have told them, or maybe Theo. She felt dreary and suddenly beyond tired. Instead of having a burden lifted from her shoulders, she felt as if a weight was now attached to her very soul, but instead of weighing her down, it was floating up to strangle the last breath from her lungs.

"You want to know my fervent wish, Blaise?" she seethed.

With a slow shrug that tried to signal that he didn't care one way or the other, although he did, he said, "You might as well tell me. I did ask, after all."

"I wish I hadn't met all of you! I wish I hadn't become involved with the Vipers!" She turned to leave but his hand reached out and snaked around her upper arm, pulling her back.

"Oh, no, no, no, no, little cub," he growled lowly, "you do not get to make a statement like that and then make a nice little exit." He turned her to face him.

She began to cry, tears of rage and ire as she threw her arms in the air. "None of this is real, Blaise, don't you see? None of this is really me, and I suddenly realized that. I feel like such a fake. It didn't matter at first because I thought I was dying, so who cared if I acted beyond the pale, or acted like someone I wasn't? I couldn't have cared less, because I wasn't going to be here to worry about it later, but now I think I might be here, because there might be a cure, and it's all crashing down on me. I don't want any of this! This isn't me. None of this is me!"

She plopped back in the chair and hung her head.

He fell on his knees in front of her and asked, "Clarify that, cub. What's not you?"

"None of this! For instance, I'm not a slag!" she cried, fall into his arms with a moan.

He started to laugh, patting her back. "Is that all that's bothering you?" He laughed some more.

She wiped her nose on his shoulder even as he reached for his pocket-square. Eyeing the wet spot on his expensive jacket with mild disgust, he wiped it away with the piece of silk in this hand before handing it to her. "What else isn't you?"

"The real Hermione Granger wouldn't have moved in with a bunch of Slytherins," she said. "Because truthfully, I didn't need your help with my list, and the thought at the time made my skin crawl, but I still did it."

He laughed again and asked, "Does it still make your skin crawl?"

She sniffled and said, "A little bit."

"Okay, what else?" He stood, pulled her to her feet, forced her to move around so that he sat down in the chair and moved her to his lap.

"I wouldn't have given up on finding a cure so easily. I don't know why I did," she said with another sob. "Hermione Granger doesn't give up so easily. Why did I give up so easily? Why did I let Harry and Ron go to Peru without me? Those two can't do anything productive without me."

"Maybe Hermione Granger was just tired of it all," he whispered, stroking her hair.

Nodding, she said, "I think you're right."

"What else?" he asked, before he kissed her cheek.

"Hermione Granger, the real me, is embarrassed to admit this, but she really wants the last part of her list completed, and that means there's no room for two men and one woman, or a Triad, but I can't do that to you and Theo. Sometimes I think it's better if I just died at the end of all of this, so I don't ruin everyone's lives."

He frowned at that, but didn't say anything.

She added, "And I think I knew I was pregnant two months ago, but I thought…I mean…how could I do that to a child? How could I be so irresponsible to get pregnant, not even thinking about the consequences of having sex with so many men, and then getting pregnant? I was going to die come September – I still might - and this baby won't have a chance at life!"

"You don't know that," he said softly, his body stiff, his heart filled with pain and remorse.

"Come on…we all know it…I mean, what type of bloody cure is a list? A list? It can't be that easy. It can't be. If it was, I would have found it earlier." She tucked her head in his neck and said, "I want to leave, but I can't. I want to leave. I don't want to be here. I don't want any of this. I want to forget it all. So that's what I've been doing these last few months. I've been pretending to be someone I'm not, and I've been forgetting it all."

"Well, this conversation didn't go like I thought it would," he said smoothly. "I thought I would ask you about the pregnancy, you might get a bit incensed, as you're apt to do, you might slap me or something, and then we'd kiss and make up. I didn't know we'd unravel my whole life's dream for my future."

She looked up at him, smiled, and said, "I already slapped Harry this evening and I make it a point only to slap one person a day, and furthermore, I don't want to unravel your dream for your future. You and Theo will still have a future, I'm sure of it. I just don't think I'll be part of it. Either way, whether I die, or whether I take myself out of the equation, I won't be a part of it." That statement made her cry again, so she placed her head back on his shoulder.

He wanted to tell her about the other cure – the one Slughorn told Theo, but he promised Theo he wouldn't, so for now he would leave it alone. Instead, he said sincerely. "It's true that I don't think I can give Theo up so easily, not even for you."

Without looking at him she replied, "I would never ask you to give up Theo, never. That wouldn't be fair, but yet the real Hermione Granger would fight tooth and nail for the man she loved."

They sat in silence for the length of many minutes while they both pondered that statement, when he finally said, "Did you know, little cub, that I've been in love with him since we were about twelve? One time his father locked him in the dungeons because he did something or other, Malfoy and I found him, and we let him out. It was apparent that he'd been crying. Malfoy started to make fun of him, because let's face it, Malfoy was a little sod, and I was a bit aloof, even back then, but I realized that all I wanted to do was draw him into my arms and make it all better."

"Well, after Draco went home, I took Theo to my mother's house. Theo admitted to me that there were rats down in the dungeon, and one had bitten him. I told my mum, and she called her personal Healer. While the Healer examined Theo, we waited in the other room, my mum and me, and I asked her if Theo could come live with us. She told me that wouldn't be possible. I begged her, but she said things didn't work that way. I told her that I loved him and wanted to take care of him. She told me that someday I'd be able to do that, but just not that day."

"I thought, fine, not that day, but someday. Someday I'd take care of him. And I will. I have. I always have, and I always will."

Hermione added, "Because you love him." She sat up on his lap and looked in his eyes.

"Because I love him." He ran a hand down her cheek. He wanted to add, '_and I love you too',_ but didn't.

"I love him, too," she said fiercely, wanting to add, '_and I also love you_,' but she didn't.

Staring into each other's eyes they both understood that something undefined and unexplained was happening. They stared at each other only for a moment longer when she said, "He'll need you if something happens to me."

"Nothing's going to happen to you," Blaise said wearily. "Merlin, but I feel old and a bit pissed, and you feel heavy on my knees. Must be the kid inside you. If he's mine, he'll be a big one. If he's Flint's, he'll be even bigger. Get off my lap. Let's go out there now. I don't want to miss the wedding announcement, and as you said, we can't deal with this right now. It's Draco's birthday, you know."

Hermione blew her nose in his pocket square and handed it back to him. He looked at it with disgust and said, "What makes you think I want this back?" They stood and walked back out to the ballroom.

Blaise stuck the soiled pocket square in a Ming-dynasty vase that was in the corner of the room.

* * *

_*I know this feels sort of like a 'filler' chapter, but it was necessary. Hermione hasn't 'felt' like herself throughout most of this story, and she needed an outlet to express that. Also, I needed to set up a chapter where she was going to start fulfilling the second part of her list. This story really is almost done. I know many of you think it should have been finished a long time ago. Thanks for sticking with it. I've had fun writing it so far!_


	44. Chapter 44 Penny Lane

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 44– Penny Lane**

_Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes,_

_Wet beneath the blue suburban skies,_

_I sit and meanwhile back,_

_Behind the shelter in the middle of a roundabout,_

_A pretty nurse is selling poppies from a tray,_

_And though she feels as if she's in a play,_

_She is anyway._

* * *

Hermione Granger looked nervous. That was Theo's first impression. She walked out of the little anteroom with Blaise, glanced around nervously, caught his eye, and then made a motioning nod with her head his way.

He walked toward the pair and immediately grabbed Hermione's outstretched hand. Blaise walked away with a vow of needing more to drink. Pulling Hermione to the side of the room, what Theo earlier thought were nerves he now thought were frayed emotions. "Do you want to leave?" he asked quickly, pulling her closer, touching his cheek to hers.

"Will this still count as _'swimming with the sharks'_ if I do?" she asked back, leaning into him with a deep sigh.

"I suppose, although I have better news." Turning her away from the crowd so that she faced the wall and he faced the birthday guests, he explained, "I have another of your tasks prepared if you're ready to leave."

"Yes, yes, and yes," she said, kissing his cheek between each word. "But should we wait until after the announcement?"

Theo placed a protective hand upon Hermione's head and gazed out upon the crowd. Blaise was drinking excessively too much. Marcus looked angry and hurt alone in the corner. Draco had one of his false smiles plastered on his face as he pretended to listen to someone in the crowd talk on the other side of the room. Adrian was watching them all pensively from the far corner. What was happening to everyone? Why was everything suddenly falling apart when it should be coming together?

Turning Hermione so she faced the room once more, he said, "Do you mind if we wait, if for no one else for Daphne?"

"Where is Daphne?" Hermione asked, scanning her eyes across the ballroom.

Theo saw her immediately and his heart went out to her just as quickly.

Daphne Greengrass looked nervous. She was almost standing behind a set of green velvet drapes that were to one side of a large alcove of windows at the end of the ballroom. She was standing all by herself, looking beautiful in a gold gown the same colour as her hair. Draco Malfoy's breath caught in his throat when he thought of how beautiful, yet nervous, she looked.

He excused himself from the boring people in which he was conversing and walked toward her.

Yes, she was such a pretty girl. He'd always thought so. He'd always had a slight crush on her. Two years older than him, she was constantly unobtainable, because from the moment she was thirteen years old she was practically glued to Marcus Flint's side.

Now she was alone and was trying to hide behind a set of drapes. Was she hiding because she didn't want to marry him? Was she against the match? Or was she merely still upset because of the events of the morning? If Flint had thrown him over, Draco would have been ecstatic - of course - no one would throw Draco over, but still it was probably hard on Daphne, as she'd been with Marcus Flint for a very long time.

Draco's whole body felt alive just seeing her. It thrummed with need, want, and something in-between. Blonde and blue-eyed, compared to her sister's dark hair and eyes, she was the better match for him. In truth, his parents told him long ago that they wanted Daphne over Astoria, but again, Daphne had been meant for Flint, so they settled for second best with Astoria. Yet poor Daphne always felt as if SHE was second to her sister. Crazy.

However, Flint didn't want her any longer, did he? Flint was never going to marry her. Flint threw her away like yesterday's news and she deserved better than that. Draco knew that even if no one else knew it. No one in their group ever took the time to get to know her very well. When they thought of her, they always thought of her as 'Marcus' girlfriend' or 'Astoria's sister'. They never thought of her as a person in her own right.

Draco was the only one who ever talked to her and she talked to him in return. She was the only one who knew he painted, including Granger. He knew that she'd been unhappy with Marcus for a very long time, because she wanted to be married. She wanted children. She wanted to start her life, and now with Draco she could do just that.

When Astoria died, the other Vipers were all happy she was gone, save for Theo, who was despondent, but Draco felt ambiguous. After all, he had had a relationship with Astoria – albeit a sick and twisted relationship – but still, they would occasionally get together, have sex, meet up and muck around, and they were betrothed for years, so yeah, when she killed herself, he felt SOMETHING.

Nevertheless, poor Daphne was sad. She was beside herself with grief, even though Astoria had always treated her sister with contempt and loathing. Daphne was in despair when Astoria died and none of the Vipers seemed to care, not even Marcus. Therefore, she turned to Draco in her anguish. Moreover, she and Draco shared their heartache in a very real way … they made love. For Draco, it wasn't just empty, meaningless sex either.

Draco knew a lot about empty, meaningless sex, because he had been having empty, meaningless sex all of his life. There were only two times in his life that he hadn't had empty, meaningless sex and once was with Hermione Granger recently and the other time was with Daphne Greengrass. Sex with Daphne was full of passion, pleasure, and an expression that was full of life.

Yeah, he would marry her. She would make a good wife. He could do this. He WOULD do this. He wanted to do this. He wanted to marry her. Just as Granger wanted to complete the second part of her little list, Draco wanted mundane things like love and marriage and kids. Who knew?

First, he had to pull Daphne out from behind the drapes.

Daphne hid behind a set of heavy velvet drapes that overlook the courtyard and heaved a heavy sigh. She could do this. She could marry Malfoy. She knew she could. If only she wasn't so nervous.

Perhaps nervous wasn't the right word. Marriage to Draco merely wasn't what she had expected of her life. But she would be marrying a man who would be good to her. He would provide for her. He would care for her. If he cheated on her, he would probably be discreet. They would have lovely children together. She was lucky. Really she was.

Marcus announced this morning that he never wanted to get married, at least to her. He told her that he didn't want to continue to live together. He didn't even want to continue to date. She asked him if he was in love with Hermione Granger and he told her no. Then she asked him if he was in love with any of the Vipers and he looked as if she had struck him. He claimed he wasn't gay. How was she to know? Blaise Zabini was bisexual, and apparently, Theo was as well now. She didn't know how these things worked with this group, but she knew one thing - there had to be a reason Marcus no longer wanted her - otherwise nothing made sense any longer.

She scrubbed a tear away from her cheek and turned sharply when she felt the curtain at her shoulder move away.

Draco was blocking her view from the vast ballroom. "Hello, Daphne."

"Oh, it's you," she said, jumping vaguely at the sound of his voice.

"Who did you expect it to be?" he asked, smirking slightly.

She shook her head and then turned around to survey the room. "There must be a hundred people here tonight. It could have been anyone."

"Are you hiding?" he asked, bringing the knuckles of his right hand down her right arm.

She shivered. "Just because a girl is behind a set of drapes doesn't mean she's hiding."

He laughed. "Listen, if you don't want to announce the betrothal, especially given the fact that you just broke it off with Marcus hours ago, I understand, but you don't have to hide."

"I wasn't hiding!" She turned to him. "And, no I want to, don't you?" She looked somewhat frazzled, desperate.

"Yes, I want to, too," he said, though he was frowning.

"What do you think of all of this?" she asked, guardedly.

He shrugged.

"One pureblood is as good as another, right?" she asked with spite. "Or is one Greengrass as good as another."

"First, one pureblood is not as good as another, because I'm superior to most purebloods, and you're superior to Parkinson, so there goes that theory," he said with another frown. "Likewise, comparing you and your sister is like comparing drinking shards of glass with daffodil wine. One is ugly, and would cut your insides to shreds if you swallowed it, and the other is beautiful, and sweet, in every way possible."

"Please don't talk badly about my sister," she whispered.

"Your sister always talked badly about you and hated your guts, so why the pretense?" he asked, snapping at a waiter who walked by the alcove. "Two glasses of wine over here!"

"She may have hated me, but I never hated her," Daphne replied. "She was my baby sister and I always adored her from the day she was born to the day she died."

"Then you were always a fool," he spat, taking the wine from the waiter and handing her one of the glasses.

She took the glass of wine, threw it right in his face, and then ran from the room.

Marcus Flint spied everything that happened from the other side of the ballroom and ran after her. Hermione grabbed Theo's hand and watched the scene unfold in shock. Blaise rushed to Draco's side and then handed him another drink in a flash. Adrian ran after Marcus.

Harry laughed.

From the other side of the room Lucius Malfoy squeezed the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb. "Merlin help me but this will be a hell of a long night."

Draco looked at the people around him and said, "Carry on people. Lover's spat, that's all." Then he walked out of the ballroom toward Daphne, Marcus, and Adrian, with Blaise, Theo and Hermione hot on his heels.

Out in the hallway, Marcus urged Daphne into the now empty anteroom through the doorway from the hallway. "What did Malfoy say to upset you?" he demanded once in the room.

"What do you care?" she asked, though there was no malice or spite in her voice.

"Daphne," he pleaded, "I'll always care." He placed a hand on her arm.

Shrugging it off her, she asked, "Are you bisexual now?"

"What?" he asked.

Of course, Adrian, Blaise, and Draco came through the other door to the anteroom at that moment.

Daphne pointed at Adrian and said, "After you broke it off with me today, Adrian told me that you admitted to everyone that you once slept with Blaise Zabini, and he's bisexual, and I guess Theo finally admitted that he's in love with Blaise, which means he's bisexual now, too, so I want to know if you are!"

Theo walked into the same door in which Daphne and Marcus had wandered through moments earlier, holding Hermione's hand. "Did I hear someone malign my character?" he asked, sincerely confused, stepping into the rather crowded small space, pushing his way in, to sit in one of the still empty chairs. He pulled Hermione down to the arm of the chair.

Blaise looked at Theo and said, "I rather think she was maligning my character, not yours, darling."

Marcus had already turned to Adrian at this bit of news. "When did you speak to Daphne?"

"Before I tell you, I have to ask, are you going to hit me again, because you have a nasty habit of doing that lately, and it rather hurts," Adrian asked with his hand held up to his face.

"I do that because you're the world's biggest sod!" Marcus shouted.

"Really?" Draco drawled, leaning against the door that led to the ballroom. "The world's biggest sod? I always thought that moniker went to Harry Potter."

"Shut up, Malfoy," Hermione interjected.

"Why are you all here?" Marcus turned around and looked at the others in the little room. "I need to talk to Daphne alone!"

"I'm here because she's my betrothed," Draco said with a smile. He pointed to Blaise and said, "I think he's here to make sure that his good name is not maligned further with slanderous gossip about you and him. Granger's here to make sure I don't insult Potter, although really, one can hardly help but to insult Potter. I'm sure Pucey's here because he always has his nose in everyone's business, hence the reason it has a fist in it so often."

"Why is Theo here?" Hermione asked carefully.

"Theo's always where we all are," Draco said naturally. "It's his greatest gift. It's his worst fault. Pick your choice."

"Everyone out!" Marcus shouted. "I need to speak with Daphne alone!"

"No need," Draco announced, "I'll take care of everything."

Blaise snickered, Hermione rolled her eyes, but Theo said, "Give him a chance."

"I've decided that Theo's here because it's his greatest gift." Draco walked up to Daphne, placed his hands upon her cheeks and said, "Marcus isn't bisexual, love. He had one little experience when he was a lad, with Blaise instead of me, if you can believe his folly, which was Blaise's first time. Adrian shouldn't have been a prick and told you about that because it was Vipers business. We'll flog him at the next meeting, so rest assured that Marcus didn't leave you because he's gay."

"Then he left me because he just didn't love enough," she said crying.

"Exactly," Draco concluded.

"And I wasn't worthy enough of his love," she added.

"That's all I'm trying to say," Draco surmissed.

"For shite's sakes!" Theo shouted. "Draco, you're a fool! Marcus had the right of things, everyone out of here, now!"

Theo never shouted. Therefore, everyone looked at him. He pointed toward the door that led to the ballroom and repeated, "I want Pucey, Malfoy, Zabini and Flint to go out that door right now!" Pointing at the other door leading to the hall, he asked, "Hermione, would you wait for me out there? As I said, I have another of your tasks prepared to start."

She smiled, leaned forward, kissed his cheek, and then weaved through the men and out the door.

The Vipers looked at each other a bit confused, and then one by one they walked out the doorway, commenting to each other how shocked they were that Theo had shouted at them, all except for Draco who was mumbling something about, "Theo's worst fault ..."

Daphne started to cry. Theo took her into his arms. "I won't have you feeling as if you aren't worthy," he began, stroking her long hair with one hand, the other arm holding her upright. "I felt that way for so long, and it's an utter rubbish way to feel. We shouldn't let anyone make us feel that way. We shouldn't give them that power. And unbelievably, Marcus has the right to feel the way he does, too. He has the right not to be in love with you any longer. He has the right to be happy, and if he doesn't think that happiness can be with you, he should explore where it might be."

She pulled back to look at him.

He continued, "I was so wrapped up in Astoria's happiness that I never gave one knut about my own. I never thought my happiness mattered, either. I also thought I didn't deserve love. I thought I was unworthy of happiness, but now that I'm in love with Hermione, I know that I do deserve love and happiness. I am worthy."

She placed a hand on his cheek and said, "I'm afraid you're going to get hurt again, Theo."

"She'll never hurt me," he said with assurance.

"Not intentionally," she agreed, pulling her hand down.

He stepped back, his hands at his side. "You mean if we don't have the right cure to curse?"

"No," she answered softly, "that's not what I mean." She shook her head. "Theo, you're so open to everything and everyone and all sorts of love, because you were without it for so long. You were made to feel as if you weren't lovable, even though your friends have always loved you, so now, you think you need MORE than just the love of a woman to complete you, but you don't, you know."

Frowning, he stepped back further, his hands feeling cold at his sides, so he brought them in front of him to rub briskly together. "What do you mean?"

"Hermione Granger isn't so different from me," she said. "Adrian also told me about the second part of her list today. Nowhere on that list was there a mention of the love of two good men. Where does that leave the blossoming relationship you have with Blaise? What about her and Blaise? Are you setting yourself up for another fall, just like you had with Astoria? Even if she lives, will she end up wanting both of you?"

She walked closer, even as he was stepping back. "Oh, Theo, I know how much Astoria hurt you. She lived to hurt you sometimes, but other times, I want you to know, she really cared about you, but still, you were never number one to her. Draco Malfoy was. I'm so sorry. You have to be number one to someone. We all deserve that, don't we?"

"Why are you saying this?" he asked. "I was trying to help you and now you're trying to hurt me."

Still shaking her head she answered, "No, I'm trying to help you, too. I want you really to think about it all. Think about which one you can't live without. Blaise might be hurt in the end, but he'd survive, just like I'll survive without Marcus. Nevertheless, people like you, and even Hermione, you both might not survive without the other, literally. Just think about it."

He didn't answer her. Instead, he turned and rushed out the door, running into Hermione who was waiting for him.

"What task did you have planned?" she asked with a smile. "I have to tell you, I don't mind leaving the ball early, especially for another task. Still, do you suppose this will still count as swimming with the sharks?"

He stared at her, and then at Blaise who was walking through the open archway doors of the ballroom. He ran down the hallway and out of sight, oblivious to the strained chorus of Hermione and Blaise shouting his name.

* * *

_*Six more chapters. And I want to thank Tess, for helping me with this chapter. Thanks so much!_


	45. Chapter 45 All I Got to Do

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 45– All I've Got to Do**

_When I want to kiss you, yeah,_

_All I gotta do,_

_Is whisper in your ear,_

_The words you long to hear,_

_And I'll be kissing you._

_And the same goes for me,_

_Whenever you want me at all,_

_I'll be here, yes I will, whenever you call,_

_You just gotta call on me, yeah,_

_You just gotta call on me._

_ Lennon/McCartney_

* * *

Theo didn't know which sound was louder – the sound of his footsteps pounding on the marble floor as he ran down the hallway away Hermione and Blaise – or the sound of his pulse beating like a drum out of time, because his heart was about to burst out of his chest.

Of course, Blaise and Hermione finally stopped calling his name as he turned the corner toward the Manor's library. He could only hope it was because Hermione decided to trust him by going home to get ready for her next task, and that Blaise had decided to have another drink. His heart, however, was still beating as loud as a clanging gong. Along with the clanging noise in his head, he was repeating one plea, one prayer, one mantra, one phrase repeatedly _… "Please still be there."_

Crossing the threshold of the library, he spied Professor Slughorn sitting in a leather chair to the side of the great fireplace, nursing a firewhiskey, and he said a silent thanks to every god, in every heaven, in every religion he could think of, and then some. And only then did the clanging gong in his head quiet to a mutinous roar.

Breathing hard, out of breath, he clutched the mantle with one hand, his chest with the other, and said, "Professor, I'm so glad you're still here. I was afraid you would have left already."

"I was just about to, my boy, was just about to, although I must say, I wanted to tell the birthday boy goodbye first. As I told you earlier, I was leaving promptly at eleven, and it's five minutes before, so you caught me just in time," Slughorn replied. "Sit down, sit down, you seem out of breath. Did you run here?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I did," Theo answered, sitting on the footstool next to his former professor's chair. "Remember the conversation we had earlier, regarding the spell you told me when I visited Hogwarts with Hermione Granger yesterday?"

Professor Slughorn looked at his former student gravely, placed his tumbler of amber liquid on the small round table beside him and said, "Yes, I recall a great many conversations, including one I just had with one Adrian Pucey only moments ago, in which he informed me that you wouldn't have need for that spell after all. He's a famous Unspeakable now, don't you know, and he told me all about another cure he's found for Miss Granger's curse, although, I have to admit, I find that cure dubious, at best, as I mentioned to you. It's the same one you told me about, regarding 'a list'."

"I know, that's why I want to be sure we cure her, so I've decided that I want to perform the other spell, the one you told me about," Theo informed him. "No matter what Pucey might have told you."

Shaking his head slowly, the elderly man rose from the chair, gripping the armrests as he did. Theo rose as well, so that they stood facing each other. Slughorn said, "Are you quite certain, my boy? I told you that spell isn't without risks, you'll need another to perform it with you, and they would be taking a risk as well. Pucey made it seem as if you'd be going against the Ministry's orders if you performed it, putting another person in danger and all."

Theo was greatly troubled by Adrian's meddling, but decided not to mention that to Slughorn. "But you also said that there's a chance that nothing would happen to either of us," Theo reminded him. "Anyway, it doesn't matter, because she's worth the chance."

Slughorn reached out and took Theo's arm. "But to possibly give your life for her …."

Theo interrupted, "Is a chance I'm willing to take." He took a deep breath and clarified. "I thought I was giving my life out of love one other time, but in reality what I was doing was acting selfishly. Astoria Greengrass killed herself, and she did it to hurt me, and then I tried to kill myself, telling everyone that I was doing it out of my love for her, but in reality, I was doing it because I was hurting, which was selfish. I didn't think how my actions would hurt everyone left, like my friends."

"Then think, my boy," the older man urged, his grip tighter on the younger man's arm, "think if you saved her in the end, how would she be able to live with the thought that you died for her? You would be leaving her with the guilt of your death, and believe me, that's extremely selfish as well."

"But isn't it an act of extreme love to give your life for someone you love? To give your life so they might live?" he begged, removing Slughorn's hand from his arm, but keeping it in his hand. "I love her, but so do a lot of others, and she would be okay when the day was done. She wouldn't forget about me, and she would move on with her life. She would love again. Someone made me see that earlier. Nevertheless, as for me, I can't live without her. I just can't, so I can't take that chance. I can't. Please help me."

Professor Slughorn took a deep breath and said, "Yes, I shall. Meet me at Hogsmeade Inn the day after tomorrow at nine in the morning. You have to bring another person with you, because you can't do this alone, so I might as well explain the risks involved to both of you at once. It must be someone you trust. You mentioned Mr. Zabini before, so I presume you'll bring him, correct?"

"No," Theo started, "I won't be bringing him." Theo thought for a moment. He wasn't sure whom he would bring. It couldn't be Draco, since he was about to start a new life with Daphne, and he didn't think he could trust Adrian to keep quiet, so it would have to be Marcus. "I'll bring Marcus Flint."

"Fine, fine, Mr. Flint is a fine choice," Slughorn said with a sad smile. "I'll see you there, my boy. I really must be going now. I have things to do in the morning, but I want to go wish Mr. Malfoy a happy birthday first. And remember, you may think she can't live without you, but your perception and her perception of things may be different, lad. Your biggest problem is that you never really understood your sense of worth. You're a wonderful boy, who grew up to be a wonderful man. Do take care. If you change your mind, send me an Owl, won't you?"

"Thank you, Sir. I appreciate your saying so, and I won't change my mind, Professor," Theo said, escorting the man out of the room. They walked back toward the ballroom together and the closer they got to the doorway leading to the grand room, the closer they got to a small crowd of Vipers who seemed to be waiting for at least one of them.

"There he is," Marcus said to the other men. "I told you one of the house elves said he was with Professor Slughorn in the library."

Theo looked around and said one word, "Hermione?"

"Trusted you enough to come back, so she left to get ready for her next task," Marcus explained, placing a hand on the other man's back. "Blaise said you ran away from the anteroom as if your life depended on it. Why was that?"

"I had to talk to Professor Slughorn before he left," Theo said simply, just as Professor Slughorn left Theo's side to shake Draco's hand. Blaise took that same side and said, "Way to go, mate. You had us all worried. I gave Greengrass hell, because I thought she tore into you, or some such shite, and then Marcus gave me hell for giving her hell. The little cub wasn't worried about you in the least, though."

"No, Daphne was trying to be kind, I think," Theo said, adding, "And Hermione wasn't worried in the least?"

"You wanted her to go on so you could start the next task, correct?" Blaise asked, his voice rising slightly, "Therefore, that's what she did. She left for the townhouse, she's anxiously, and I mean that seriously … anxiously … waiting for you to show up. So leave; don't worry about the rest of us." Blaise threw back another swallow from the drink he was holding.

"Right," Theo nodded. "I best leave, but I think you might have had enough of this." He took the drink from Blaise's hand and handed it to Marcus, who only handed it right back to Blaise behind Theo's back. Theo saw that Slughorn had wished Draco the best and had already left, so he went up to his friend and threw an arm around his side. "Malfoy, happy birthday, mate."

"Thanks, Nott. By the way, thanks for taking the attention off Daphne and me. Everyone was up in arms when they heard you ran away like a little girl," Draco teased. "Zabini and Granger were crying buckets of tears out here."

"Not what I heard, and I merely wanted to talk to Slughorn before he left," Theo explained cryptically. "And speaking of, I'm leaving as well."

"Before the cake? Before the announcement of the betrothal? Before the presents?" Draco held out his hand, supposedly waiting for a present.

Theo smiled, shook Draco's outstretched hand, before leaning toward his friend, throwing his arms around his waist. He whispered in his ear, "Happy birthday and your present is that I love you. Have a good life with Daphne. You both deserve it."

When Theo leaned away, Draco grabbed a handful of the other man's jacket in the middle of his back to pull him back toward him, all the while with a glower upon his face. Then Draco scowled, "Why does that ominously sound like a fucking goodbye speech? What have you done?"

"Nothing, I'm just leaving. I'm tired, and I also have another task planned for Miss Granger tonight." Theo smiled, but it wasn't bright or happy. It was merely a smile.

Draco regarded it for a moment, then said, "I don't really believe you, but I don't have time to worry about it now. We'll talk tomorrow or the next day. And that's not a suggestion, or a request, but an order." He pulled Theo back into another hug, held him longer than he meant to at first, then said only for him to hear, "You're my best friend in the world, Nott, and I love you very much, so don't do anything stupid, because if you do, I'll be seriously put out. And THAT'S my present, you understand?"

Draco practically threw Theo toward Marcus and Adrian, turned and grabbed Daphne's hand as she stood in the entry of the ballroom, and then he walked away from the rest of the Vipers.

"Do you want to tell us what you said to Draco?" Adrian asked.

"I wished him happy birthday," Theo lied, yet he didn't … not really … not at all.

"And you and Slughorn, what was all that about? You ran away like a banshee, without a word to Granger or Zabini. Why?" Adrian inquired.

"Adrian," Theo began, walking up to their pseudo-leader, patting his cheek, "You ask way too many questions, and you get involved in way too many of our problems. For once, you need to leave it all alone. I must be on my way. Have a good night."

Turning to Marcus he said, "I need to see you tomorrow. Pop by, around two or so, if that's convenient. Just you."

Lastly, he turned to Blaise and said, "And no matter what, I really do love you." And he placed a hand on the handsome man's face, leaned close, and kissed his other cheek softly. Taking the crystal glass from his hand again, he handed it to Adrian this time.

"I'm off. Have a good night, gentlemen, and as always, as is our motto, I use that term very loosely." He laughed before he walked down the hallway toward the Disapparition point.

Adrian turned to Marcus and said, "You will tell me why he wants to meet with you tomorrow."

Marcus stared right back at Adrian and said, "Sod off," before he turned around and walked back into the ballroom.

Blaise kept his glaze on the spot where Theo had been and said, "He's going to do the other spell, the one Slughorn told him about. I know it. I feel it in my bones."

Adrian gasped. "How do you know about it?"

Blaise sighed before leaning his shoulder against the wall. "He told me about it, of course, and he made me promise not to tell another living soul, which I suppose means you, but I have a feeling you already know about it."

"Slughorn and I might have already talked about it," Adrian supplied. "Please tell me you didn't promise him you'd help him, because that spells takes two people, and I suppose," he continued sarcastically, "that includes you."

"I did promise him, but I don't think that matters, because I have a funny feeling he's going to blow me over for Flint." Blaise took the glass out of Adrian's hand (much to the man's dismay) and downed it in one gulp.

Adrian said, "We'll just make sure Marcus doesn't agree to help him."

Blaise laughed a contemptuous, cynical laugh. "Flint is this close to beating you to a bloody pulp these days, hence his lovely suggestion for you to 'sod off', so I'm not sure you can convince him to do anything. You best let me talk to him." He handed his empty glass to Adrian and walked into the ballroom.

Adrian looked at the empty glass in his hand and wondered why everything was going so wrong.

Back in her flat on the third floor of Theo's townhouse, dressed in jeans, trainers, and her comfortable, brown jumper, Hermione was examining her original list of things to do. She was somewhat shocked that from the first page (numbers 1 through 16) she only had five things left to do.

Theo said he had everything ready to fulfill one of her tasks tonight, but the night was almost over, and he had run away from her earlier, so she doubted that she would get a task completed tonight.

Of the five things left to complete, she wondered which he had planned to do. It couldn't be her number one, playing Sunday Quidditch with the boys, because it wasn't Sunday and there wasn't time to start a game of Quidditch tonight, so she mentally crossed off that. She felt content crossing that off, as she wasn't up to playing Quidditch tonight, or perhaps ever. She wondered if she could 'pretend' to play Quidditch. She'd have to think about that one.

Number three, playing poker, was left, but she wanted to do that at a gentleman's club. She looked around her apartment. It certainly couldn't pass for a gentleman's club, and as the Vipers always mentioned to each other, they certainly weren't 'gentlemen'.

It couldn't be number nine … having one of her poems or short stories published … or could it? That left only number thirteen, but really, how could Theo teach her to become an Animagus? How could any of the Vipers teach her to become an Animagus? None of them could change into animals as far as she knew, so she doubted that any of them could help her with that one, and that was one that she REALLY, really wanted to do, too.

She hoped it might be the 'cooking the French meal and sharing it someplace romantic', because frankly, she was still hungry. She would hold out for that one.

There was a soft knock at her door, which meant only one thing – her wait was over – and she was about to find out which task was to be completed tonight.

"Come in," she said softly, although the door was already opening right after the second knock. It was Theo. She smiled, as did he.

* * *

_*This story is almost over. Chapters 46 and 47 are completed. I'm happy with one (46) and not with the other (47, of course) and neither have been to the beta yet, so I'm not sure when they will be posted. Thanks to everyone who have read this. My original story, "A Different Sort of Fairytale" is being posted on a site called, "Unicorn Dreams", a fanfiction site owned by a writer named jamies_lady, if anyone wants to go read it._

_Also, I'm acknowledging a writer called, "Blue Artemis" because she helped me when I was feeling down, so give her stories a try! Thanks!_


	46. Chapter 46 Michelle

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 46 – Michelle**

_Michelle, ma belle_

_Sont des mots qui vont tres bien ensemble,_

_Tres bien ensemble,_

_I love you, I love you, I love you,_

_That's all I want to say,_

_Until I find a way,_

_I will say the only words I know that you'll understand,_

_My Michelle_

_Lennon/McCartney_

* * *

Hermione smiled as she took another bite of the chocolate-covered strawberry in her hand. "What did you call this again?" she asked in feigned innocence.

"Fondue," Theo said sheepishly.

Hermione ate the chocolate-covered strawberry, nodded, and then slowly said, "Ah. Fondue. Fondue. Fooonnnnduuueeee." She drew out the word. "And how is that spelled?"

"F-O-N-D-O-O." Theo lied. "Fondue, from the French word, 'Fonduelious', meaning 'to cover something in a wonderful tasty treat'."

She snorted derisively, pointed to the plate at her right and asked, "And what was that again?"

He smiled. "Crepes. Remember? Crepes. From the French word 'Crepelous', meaning 'a marvelous way to roll up crème or fruit before you eat them'."

She laughed. "And that?" She pointed to something on his plate.

"Alright, alright, alright. Apparently, I'm not a French chef, and I know nothing of French cuisine. Do I at least get points for trying?" He stuffed a fried piece of potato in his mouth.

"I don't think so," she protested, taking a hold of his hand before he could take another bite of the food he was holding. "We don't even call these French fries in England!"

"If you want to get technical," he leveled, pushing her hand away, popping the chip in his mouth. "We, meaning wizards, don't even eat these, as they're Muggle food. Still, aren't you at least going to give me points for trying?"

She leaned against the cushions that he had thrown all over her living room floor, on top of her chenille bedspread ('chenille' being a French word, he pointed out) and she said, "Points for trying: yes." Scratching her kitten's ears, she added, "And you did teach me to make the crepes, as well as the omelet, which I've never been able to do very well without them sticking to the pan, so that fulfills my task. Likewise, I was terribly hungry, so I count myself damn lucky you decided to do this task tonight."

She was enjoying herself. She was enjoying herself immensely. It was close to two in the morning, her kitchen was a mess, she had flour on her brown jumper, and when he first arrived tonight, he refused to tell her where he had gone when he ran away from her and Blaise at Draco's birthday ball. Nevertheless, she was still enjoying herself.

Pouring her some more 'French' champagne, he motioned toward the picnic basket on her kitchen table. "Actually, we're fulfilling two tasks tonight. The other one's in the basket."

Hermione's eyebrows knitted together as a look of wonder and worry crossed her mind. Handing him her champagne, she crawled over to her table, reached up for the basket and placed it on the floor beside his hip. Then she reached inside and pulled out some crumpled, old newspapers, which lined the bottom of the wicker basket.

"I'm a mite confused," she said, looking into the now empty basket.

"You're a mite correct, you are confused," he returned, handing the champagne flute to her again, then reaching for the pieces of newspaper and ironing them flat against his thigh with both hands.

"What are you doing?" Hermione moved the basket from between them and scooted closer, watching his every move.

"This is a copy of tomorrow's Daily Prophet." He continued to smooth out one sheet, then another, then the third.

"How did you get tomorrow's Daily Prophet?" she asked, trying to reach for the now nearly neat pieces of paper. He slapped her hand away, and continued to press out the creases and folds.

"I stand corrected, this is a copy of today's Daily Prophet, as it's after midnight," he replied, handing the now intact paper to her.

She sighed, but took the paper from him. The date at the top confirmed that what he said was true. She frowned, looked back quickly to Theo, then said, "Okay, still confused – which I don't like to admit – but still confused. How did you get an advanced copy of the paper, and how does this fulfill one of my tasks?"

"You're smart." He took a pillow from near his feet, turned to his side, and propped it under his head. "I'll wait, you'll figure it out."

She began to peruse the paper. "There's a sale at the joke shop," she said. "They have a coupon for 20 percent off any item of your choice." She continued reading, turning the first page. "Here's an interesting article about a new species of dragon that they found in Bulgaria. I wonder if Charlie Weasley is aware of it. I'll save him the article." She was quiet for a while longer, and then said, "Here's an obituary for a man who lived to be 105 years old. Can you imagine? He had 15 children, 47 grandchildren, 62 great-grandchildren, and 29 great-great grandchildren. Goodness!" She looked up from her reading. "One person could almost populate a single city, if you think about it. Think of what Blaise could do if he didn't use protection."

She looked down quickly at her own stomach, and revised, "If he didn't use it all the time, that is." She turned another page and asked, "Seriously, Theo, tell me what I'm supposed to find here."

"I'm about to go to sleep, so don't bother me until you find it," he bemoaned from his back with his eyes closed, kitten on his chest. He felt a pillow strike his face. He opened his eyes quickly. The kitten had scrambled elsewhere, and Hermione was still reading the paper, innocently. Hmm.

She turned to the last page, was about to tell him that there was an attention-grabbing ad for a fever-reducing elixir when she saw it! Gasping, she looked around for another pillow, threw it at him to catch his attention again, but when she looked at him he was already back on his side, with a large smile on his face.

"Really?" she said.

He nodded his head. "Although you have Blaise to thank for this one, not me. One of his mother's former lovers, or maybe one of her former husbands, not sure which, is the current editor-in-chief at the paper. Blaise asked a favour."

Hermione squealed in delight, hugged the paper to her chest, gasped again, then placed the paper on the floor. "It's all rumpled and creased!"

"I have other copies for you," he said with a smile, sitting up beside her. "Well, are you going to read your very first, published poem for me or not?"

Smiling like a schoolgirl, she thrust the paper toward him and said, "You read it." He started to take the paper from her, but she took it back and said, "No, I'll read it."

Clearing her throat, she read aloud:

* * *

**Sometimes**

_**Sometimes I wonder what life is all about,**_

_**The dreaming, the laughing, the wondering, the remembering,**_

_**However, I can't remember without a certain sadness,**_

_**It is so deep in my heart that**_

_**I know I shall never be rid of it.**_

_**I wonder about the ignorance of people,**_

_**And about my own ignorance.**_

_**No one really knows all the answers,**_

_**Although sometimes there are those of us who pretend to know.**_

_**I dream about all the beautiful people I will never meet,**_

_**About everyone whom I love, but sometimes hate,**_

_**And hate, but sometimes love,**_

_**And all the things I do, but sometimes regret.**_

_**The laughter comes last.**_

_**Sometimes I hardly remember the laughter.**_

_**It is like a deep, dark secret that fills my mind, body, and soul,**_

_**With its confusion.**_

_**Sometimes I wonder what it will all be like when it stops …**_

_**But only sometimes.**_

* * *

Placing the newspaper back on her lap, folding it once, then twice, she looked up at him, straight into his eyes … straight into his heart. "How did you find my poems?"

"Draco and I snooped around up here and found your old journals," he admitted. "We only read a few until we found that one. It was dated 1999. I wondered what was going on in your head when you wrote it, what was happening and all. It seemed appropriate, somehow, so I picked it out."

"I always liked that one. My mother was a bit worried when she read it the first time." Placing the folded paper on the couch, Hermione crawled over some discarded pillows so that she could sit on the floor next to Theo. "I think she thought I was a bit suicidal or something. She never really knew everything that was going on in our world."

Leaning her head on his shoulder, she said, "Thank you, for helping me fulfill my tasks. Two more completed." She looked up at him, repeated, "Thank you," leaned closer and pressed her lips to his. Placing her hand in his hair, she thought of how soft it was, then she thought of how rough his face was next to hers, with its first shade of a beard, but she didn't care.

Because his lips were so bloody soft under hers. She was falling over backwards; he was pressing her down on the pillows. Her hands were now in his hair, now on the nape of his neck. A swelling sense of peace and calm and pleasure descended upon her, his weight heavy on her, his chest pressing against her breasts, his body in the hollow of her thighs.

His mouth was warm. It tasted like champagne. No it didn't. Actually, it tasted like blue sky and morning rain and everything good and happy in her life. It felt as if he were asking her a question with his mouth, his lips gently shaping her lips, pulling on them, tugging, swiping, licking, teasing, torturing.

She kissed him back the only way she knew how … with everything she could. Placing a hand on his cheek, she persuaded him to take the time to look down at her, so she could ask in a husky murmur, "Do you love me, Theodore Nott?"

She trembled, both hands in his hair, and before she pulled him back down to her, she heard him say, "Yes, I love you, so very much," so she hurried and said, "Theodore Nott, will you marry me?" Lacing her arms tighter around him, she arched up, kissed him again with an honest sweetness that made them both breathless. A blissful moment later she opened her eyes, fell back down to the ground to await his reply.

He rolled away from her, to his back, panting, out of breath. She sat up, placed a hand on his chest, and tried to distinguish his ragged breathing over the thumping of her own heart. What would he say to her question?

When he didn't answer right away, she avoided his eyes and tried to get up, but he grabbed her hand quickly to keep her beside him. Her hand was shaking in his. They both remain sitting, backs against the sofa. He handed her another glass of champagne, and then took one for himself.

Finally, she got the nerve to glance over at him. He had her cat sitting on his lap, and was feeding a dollop of crème from one of the crepes to it from his fingertip.

Never one to lack for courage, Hermione asked, "Forget the cat and the crepes for a moment, please. Did you hear me, Theo? I asked you to marry me. The least you could do is answer one way or the other."

"Do you want to marry me, Hermione?" Theo asked, his voice sounding distant, anguished.

She bit her lip, feeling stupid and confused. "I wouldn't have asked otherwise."

Without looking at her, he said, "Shouldn't we concentrate on the first part of your list, and then worry about the second?"

"I rather think we have to do the whole list, for the cure to work," she snapped. She got up on her knees and began to throw pillows back on the sofa and chairs, and then she started to pick up the plates and dishes from their 'romantic French dinner for two'. Reaching for her champagne glass, she drank the rest of the contents in one fluid movement, then threw the glass at the wall and said, "I shouldn't be drinking champagne! I'm pregnant, although no one wants to talk about that!"

She stood up and said, "And I have to think of how I'm going to have this child, or at least make this pregnancy count as one of my tasks!" Theo continued to look at the floor.

Hermione kicked the champagne bottle and it smashed on the opposite wall. "Why did you give me champagne? Furthermore, if you don't want to marry me, one of the other Vipers will, so there!" She started out of the room, but he grabbed the end of her brown jumper.

She pulled on it as well, but he wouldn't let go, so she merely slipped out of it and started to her bedroom. But Theo was fast, and he leapt to his feet and threw his arms around her, holding her hard and tight in his embrace. "It _wasn't_ champagne. I lied. It was sparking cider. I swear. I switched the labels. You can use your wand and see for yourself."

Hermione cast her mind for something to say to that, but he continued, "And it's not that I don't want to marry you. I do. I love you. I want to marry you. But, Hermione, there might be another way to cure you, so I think we need to consider doing both cures."

She eyed him suspiciously, but relaxed slightly in his arms. "What other way? How is it that suddenly cures are falling from the heavens, after I searched for months for an anti-curse? And furthermore, why should we do two cures? Everyone is positive that this one will work."

"Are _you_ positive?" he asked sincerely, placing his forehead on her shoulder, before he took a deep breath. She could tell there was pure, true distress in his voice.

With a hand on his cheek, she lifted his head so that his hazel eyes met hers. "In truth, yes, I'm sure this will work, so please, don't go off and try to do something else. Please. I don't know what you're planning on doing, but if it's something noble, or something that will hurt you in the end, I beg you not to do it. In fact, I want you to promise me you won't do it."

The look in his eyes was a combination of sorrow and joy. It was something achingly familiar, and even though he smiled and said that he promised, she only heard him distantly, because she was struck almost deaf and dumb by the startled look in his eyes.

He was going to do something that was going to hurt her worst than her own death. She just knew it. Still, she pulled his head to hers and kissed him again, willing her mind to stop spinning around in circles, willing her heart to stop pressing so hard in her chest.

_Sometimes she wondered what would have happened if she hadn't fallen into this den of Vipers, but only sometimes._

.

Back at Malfoy Manor, Marcus Flint was out on the patio talking to Blaise Zabini and he said, "Then it's decided?"

"Yes, at least, I agree with you," Blaise nodded, throwing his lit cigarette to the ground, then snuffing it out with his shiny, black shoe. "I agree we can't tell Malfoy and we really can't tell Pucey. You still have to make that meeting with Theo and Professor Slughorn, however." He leaned against the short, stone wall and said, "Tell Theo whatever he wants to hear. Agree to help him."

"I will." Marcus folded his arms in front of him. "You know that Potter is willing to help me with this? Actually, it was more his idea than mine. He was the first one to think of it, and he went to Professor McGonagall to see if she thought it was possible, and then he got the permission of the Ministry of Magic. They figured they owe it to Granger, after all, our little cub helped Potter save our world from evil and all."

"And she's still doing it, in a fashion, by keeping all of us in line," Blaise laughed. "Still, should we take an oath not to tell anyone else?"

"I won't tell if you won't tell," Marcus promised.

"I won't tell," Blaise repeated. He looked around the patio, down in the gardens, made sure once again that they were alone, then patted Marcus' arm. "Who would have thought that you would have come up with such an easy solution to our problem?"

"Are you calling me dumb?" Marcus asked seriously.

"Dumb, but handsome," Blaise said just as seriously.

Marcus frowned and flexed his hand into a fist.

"Oh, sorry, I meant to say, dumb, but muscular," Blaise amended.

Marcus frowned even more. "Whatever. Just because I came up with it, doesn't mean it will work, and if it doesn't work, Theo might still want to do his little spell. What then?"

"Then we lock him in a room until after the little Gryffindor's birthday," Blaise said, then he sighed. "Hell, I don't know. Let's hope it works. I'm going home. Where are you going?"

Marcus shrugged. "I don't know. I told Daphne earlier that she could have the house, so I don't have anywhere to go. My stuff is at Adrian's, but I'm a still a bit annoyed at him, so I don't want to go there."

"Well, come on then, I have a spare bedroom you can use," Blaise offered, patting Marcus' back. "Gee, you really are muscular."

Marcus merely looked at Blaise and waited.

Blaise smiled and ended with, "I'm not going to say you're dumb again. You have bad habit of hitting people, after all." He laughed, and was still laughing as they made their way back inside Malfoy Manor to the Apparition point.

* * *

_*A/N: That poem was the very first 'real' poem I ever wrote, when I was only 14 years old. And the next chapter will be fun - playing Quidditch with the boys! It's really almost over! Yeah or nay. My next story will be called, "Rules of Engagement" and will be a Dramione. It will probably only be posted on this site, because it's too hard to worry about posting on multiple sites, etc. Thanks!_


	47. 47 She Came in Thru the Bathroom Window

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 47 – She Came in Through the Bathroom Window**

_She came in through the bathroom window,_

_Protected by the silver spoon,_

_But now she sucks her thumb and wanders,_

_By the bank of her own lagoon,_

_Didn't anybody tell her?_

_Didn't anybody see?_

_Sunday's on the phone to Monday,_

_Tuesday's on the phone to me, oh yeah._

_Lennon/McCartney_

* * *

The summer went by so quickly, it was as if suddenly the days grew longer, the nights grew hotter, and the sun shone brighter in the sky and nobody told Hermione Granger about it. June turned to July, and then suddenly July turned to August. Where did the days go? They passed by so quickly – in a blink of an eye – one month was gone, then another, then the next.

Her original list was completed, and her second list was almost done. Her birthday loomed near. It was the 28th of August. Her birthday was the 19th of September. Therefore, in twenty-four days Hermione Granger would either die or live. It was that simple. It was that plain. It was the easy. Yet it was that hard.

No one wanted to talk about it. She felt very lonely sometimes because of it. They were all avoiding the subject, and they were also all hiding other things … things in which she couldn't quite put her finger on … yet she hadn't given up on yet. She knew that Theo was hiding something big, as was Marcus, and possibly Blaise. It irked her to no end, but she didn't know what to do about it.

However, for today, the twenty-eighth day of August, she wasn't going to think about any of that. She was going to merely sit outside on a blanket, underneath the tall trees of the back garden, with books around her, fruit and food at her disposal, her cat for company, and she wasn't going to worry ... only for today.

Her cat, Boo, was getting big. Probably because every time one of the Vipers saw it, they fed it something. It was downright enormous! Smiling, stroking his fur, she brushed a blade of grass across his whiskers, and then fell back on the soft blanket that was under the tallest of all the trees of the back garden, and she stared up at the sky.

She thought about her list and each item that she had recently completed. It was only last week that Marcus had finally arranged a Quidditch match for all of them. She closed her eyes as the clouds moved away from the sun, and she thought of the match. It was the Vipers against all of the Weasleys and Harry. They played in a professional arena somewhere, but since Hermione was now soundly pregnant, she was regulated to keeping score and officiating.

Turning to her side to keep the sun out of her eyes, she patted her cat's belly and laughed. "I didn't mind keeping score," she said to Boo. "It still felt as if I was playing, and I still had fun. It was a very rough match, and they were terrible to each other. I couldn't believe how often they fouled each other. Malfoy even used magic against Harry more than once, and I had to take him out of the game twice!"

The cat looked at Hermione with total disdain, (at least in her opinion) and ran after a butterfly. She closed her eyes again, but the smile stayed on her face as she recalled how Harry caught the snitch in the end. She secretly wanted that side to win, though she would never have told the Vipers as much.

When she thought of how much fun she had going to Blaise's club to play poker, she couldn't help but smile again. He closed the entire club for one night just for her. The only people invited to attend were the Vipers, Harry and Ron, Ron's brothers, Goyle, Michael Corner, and a few other purebloods. Everyone was dressed to the nines in Muggle tuxedos, including Hermione. They played elimination poker, using Muggle money, and even though Hermione was eliminated early in the evening, and lost well over 2,500 pounds (donated to her by Theo) she had the time of her life. In addition, it was worth it to see the last two people … Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter, fighting it out in the end.

Unlike at the Quidditch game they had just played, Draco Malfoy won the poker match, though Harry accused him of cheating. Hermione had no doubt that Malfoy did cheat, but in the end everyone laughed, drank, and had a good time. Hermione insisted that Draco donate all of his winnings to a Muggle charity of her choice. He wasn't happy with that suggestion, but he did it to make her happy. He said he didn't need Muggle money anyway, which made everyone laugh at his nonsense.

Swatting away a dragonfly that landed on her leg, she sat up and looked for her cat. She didn't see it right away, so she got up on her knees and called its name. Bounding toward her, it leapt right into her arms, then right back out again. Hermione crawled over to the large tree nearby, close to where she dropped her book and water bottle, and propped her back against the trunk. Seeing the cat chase butterflies and horseflies made Hermione think fondly of the last item on her original list. She wanted to become an Animagus. She honestly never thought she would complete that item.

When she was a young girl and she first learned that Harry's father and his friends became Animagus to help Lupin when he turned to a werewolf each month, she had secretly wanted to become an Animagus, too. Even back then, she figured it couldn't have been that hard of a feat, after all, Wormtail was able to accomplish it.

Subsequently, she read books about it, studied it, asked questions, and then she tried, very hard, to become one. And she failed.

Hermione Granger rarely failed at anything that she tried. She even talked to Lupin about it once, and he told her that not everyone had the capability to do it, and that she shouldn't feel discouraged. For some reason, that discouraged her even more. When she put that on her list, she knew she wouldn't be able to accomplish it. Truthfully, there were a few things on her list she knew she couldn't accomplish – like cutting Lucius Malfoy's hair – she just knew it couldn't be done. Still, it was the one thing from page one that she REALLY wanted to do.

Imagine her shock when Adrian Pucey knocked on her flat door one hot July day, took her hand, and said, "I'm going to teach you to become an Animagus today."

She always knew that Adrian had secrets. He was an Unspeakable, just like her. Unspeakables were sometimes called, 'Secret Keepers'. Nevertheless, seriously, she never dreamt that he was an Animagus. He certainly had never registered as one, as he should have, since registering as an Animagus was a matter of public record and a requirement with the Improper Use of Magic Office.

Instead of preaching to him the morals of right and wrong (since he undoubtedly already knew them) she decided to merely smile at him and be happy that someone was finally going to help her succeed in her goal to become a real Animagus.

For days, Adrian and she worked up in her little flat. He told her the theories of transfiguring into an animal while keeping the faculties, thoughts, and emotions of a human being. He told her how one kept their clothing intact while in their animal form, and how one could do it wandless if they so desired. He harped on and on about the theory of it for two days until she wanted to scream, "LET'S JUST DO IT!"

Actually, she did finally scream, "Let's just do it," but she waited until day three.

Her skin prickled and her nerves were on edge just thinking about how the time had come for her to change. She knew the theory, the silent incantation, the mechanics, the whys, and the hows. She didn't know what animal she would turn into, because Adrian said that no one ever knew what animal he or she would become until the very first change. He was a fox (which seems appropriate to her, since he was sly like a fox) and he changed in front of her first.

His long, red tail swished back and forth, as he walked in front of her, waiting for her to change. She said, "I hope I don't change into a rabbit, because you might eat me," then she laughed. Of course, she knew it was still 'Adrian' inside, so he wouldn't really eat her, but she wanted to lighten the mood.

She took a deep breath, said a silent prayer, closed her eyes, and tried with all her might. When she opened her eyes, she looked out at her flat, saw her cat on the couch, Adrian as a fox in front of her, and at first, she thought she failed. Then she looked down. Where were her hands? Where were her feet? She turned to look in the mirror that Adrian had set against her bedroom door and froze.

What? How could this be? She thought she would turn into an otter, because that was her favourite animal, as well as her Patronus. On the other hand, she thought perhaps, she might turn into a cat, because she loved cats. She wouldn't have minded turning into an exotic animal like a lynx or something. However, this was preposterous! There was no way on earth that Hermione Granger turned into this! She turned around to look at Adrian, the fox, and even though he WAS a fox, she could swear that he was laughing.

He changed back and yes, he was laughing. At her.

Oh well. Frankly, she didn't care. She had finally become an Animagus, and Adrian Pucey could laugh all he wanted. She was a bit proud of herself, because she did it on her first try, and yes, okay, fine, she never in a million years thought she would become THIS, but still, it worked.

She changed back, rushed over to him, and placed her hand over his mouth.

"Stop laughing at me!" she squealed. "At least it worked!"

He rolled away from her, still laughing. "I can't wait to tell the others!" he said, holding his stomach with his arms.

She stood up, pointed down at him and ordered, "You don't have my permission to tell them a thing, Adrian, or I'll tell the Ministry that you're an unregistered Animagus!"

"As are you now!" he pounced back, still smiling. He stood up, threw an arm over her shoulders and said, "Fine, okay, I won't tell anyone." He kissed her cheek and then said, "Chipmunk girl."

Thinking about it now, Hermione placed her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing, as she recalled the memory of that day. Adrian DIDN'T tell the other Vipers, but she did. She got a mountain of nuts from the rest of them for days, along with jokes about her teeth (which no longer resembled chipmunk teeth, so there!) and she got a few new nicknames out of the bargain, such as 'Chippie' and 'Chipper' as well as 'Chip monkey', but she didn't care. She was now an Animagus, even if she was an unregistered one, and they weren't.

Moreover, her first list, numbers one through sixteen, were done.

And summer was almost over.

It was almost September.

Now what was going to happen?

* * *

_*A/N Extremely short chapter. I took out whole chunks, to keep it light, and to complete her list. I was so unhappy with the chapter as it was, but I didn't want to change it completely, so instead it's a short chapter. I don't know it this will alter the lenghth of the story or not, now._


	48. Chapter 48 The Long and Winding Road

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 48 – The Long and Winding Road**

_The long and winding road,_

_That leads to your door,_

_Will never disappear,_

_I've seen that road before,_

_It'll always lead me here,_

_Lead me to your door._

_The wild and windy night,_

_That the rain, washed away,_

_Has left a pool of tears,_

_Crying for the day,_

_Why leave me standing here,_

_Let me know the way._

_Many times, I've been alone,_

_And many times, I've cried,_

_Anyway, you'll never know,_

_The many ways, I've tried._

_But still they lead me back, _

_To the long, and wind road,_

_You left me standing here,_

_A long, long time ago,_

_Don't leave me waiting here,_

_Lead me to your door._

_Lennon/McCartney_

* * *

**Part I – A Duo Sitting Around Talking –**

Two friends, who used to be enemies, were sitting outside Hermione's flat on a lazy afternoon on the last day of August, waiting for two of her childhood friends to appear.

"Do you know what you're going to say to them when they come over?" the man asked.

Shaking her head no, she confirmed, "I have no clue. Ron may not know anything about this, although Harry probably told him. But if he's innocent, Potter will get the full force of my wrath alone."

"Wonderful, wonderful. I would love to be there and see that!" The man took her hand in his, squeezed it once, kept it captive, and added, "And I know that Theo was just as shocked as you were when I told him about it. I can only imagine that he's already confronted Blaise about it, although I asked him to wait and let me do it at the Vipers' meeting tonight."

She looked at their joined hands, smiled contritely and said, "Who would ever have imagined that you and I would have become such good friends?"

He brought their hands up to his mouth, kissed the top of hers, dropped them both to his lap, and said, "And they want to take all of that away from us. They want to take it all away, because they don't have faith in 'the list cure'."

Inwardly, she shuddered a moment, outwardly she exhaled a breath, and asked, "Do you believe it will work?"

He dropped her hand. "I do, Granger. I really do. I wouldn't go on with everything if I didn't. I wouldn't be helping Theo plan your wedding, or take you to your Healer appointments, if I didn't. Come the 19th of September, you're going to wake up that morning, and heave a big sigh of relief. You think it will work, I think it will work, my father thinks it will work and Pucey thinks it will work. Taken together, that's like gospel. We're four of the smartest people I know. It'll work."

She smiled.

He continued, "And then you'll probably want to write up some big paper on the whole incident, complete with references, interviews with participants, detailed drawings of sexual experiences – which I'll be happy to render for you – and no doubt a giant list for future, bushy-haired, bucked-tooth, chipmunk-loving, know-it-alls."

She glared at Draco Malfoy and said, "Are you quite finished?"

"Oh, I could go on for days, sweetheart," he gleamed. He handed her back her hand, stood, and continued, "But I must go prepare for my confrontation with my mates tonight. My look of righteous indignation must be perfected if it's to be believed."

She rolled her eyes. "You do that Malfoy, you do that." She stood. "Harry and Ron will be here soon, and I need time to change."

"Why? You have no reluctance about parading around in that horrid, brown eyesore you call a jumper, which oddly enough still fits you even though you're pregnant, in front of us. Why not wear it in front of them? Potter grew up under a set of stairs, so he probably would think this is a piece of haute couture. And Weasley only ever had hand-me-downs from a dozen, older brothers, so this would look like a brand new jumper to his poor rattled brain."

Hands on hips, she asked, "Do you ever get tired of making fun of people?"

He laughed. "Never, and I'll tell you something else, precious, if I do nothing else before your birthday, I plan on freeing the world of that brown jumper of yours."

"Buy me a new one for my birthday, and it's yours." She leaned forward, pressed a kiss to his cheek, and walked up the stairs and inside.

He called back, "Promises, promises," before he turned around and walked down the stairs.

**Part II – Another Duo – Hardly Talking**

Music played softly in the background while Blaise and Theo continued to transfigure Blaise's nightclub into an outdoor, autumn garden, beautiful enough for a wedding. Blaise didn't recognize the song playing, although he knew it was one of the Beatles songs, which they had all become so fond of lately.

"Do you think this tree would look better with yellow or orange trees?" Theo asked Blaise.

Blaise looked up, examined the other trees around the one in question, and answered, "I think it would look better red. See that one over there is orange, and you have too many yellow. For a rather artistic man, you have no sense of colour."

Theo laughed. "We needed Malfoy for this. He's the artist. Where is he this afternoon?"

Blaise shrugged, even as he used his wand to place a shrub in a different location. "He said something about having things to do before the Viper meeting this evening."

Theo looked over at Blaise. "Do you know why he called this emergency meeting tonight?"

Blaise sat down on a small bench they had placed at the base of one of the 'trees' and said, "No clue. Hard to tell with Malfoy. Maybe he bought a new broom and he wants to show it off or something."

Theo made a sort of humming noise, but said nothing. Instead, he joined Blaise on the bench. "Thanks for helping me with this. It's so much better than trying to transfigure my actual back garden into an autumn paradise since its summer, and after everything that really happened back there, I didn't really want to hold my wedding there."

"Right," Blaise said in clipped tones, rubbing the toe of his boot along the 'grass' on the floor.

"Are you alright with this?" Theo asked.

Blaise stood, turned away and sighed. "You mean am I alright being left out? Sure. Whatever. It's fine. I understand."

"You're not being left out. You know it's not like that," Theo said softly, though he looked down at the ground as he said it.

Blaise turned. "Not like what? Not like Hermione's having my baby, but I'm not going to be part of her life? Not like you and her getting married, even though I'm in love with you both. Not like that?"

"Her list …" Theo began, only to stop. "Nevermind. We've already discussed this, and I don't want to hurt you anymore."

"Right," Blaise said again. "Her second list said she wanted to find a good man to love her, only her, for the rest of her life. It said she wanted to get married, and have a fall-time wedding. It said she wanted to have a baby. It said she wanted to find a cure and live a long time. Nowhere did it say she wanted someone like me. Believe me, I understand it all perfectly."

Blaise looked betrayed, but Theo looked hurt, which was never Blaise's intent when he started his rant. Theo pulled a wrinkled piece of paper out of his trouser pocket and read:

"Number seventeen – Have a child someday. I would like to have more than one, but I won't be selfish, one will do." He looked up at Blaise and added, "You're right, she doesn't mention that she wants someone like you there. Whatever you meant by that statement: 'Someone like you'."

He looked back down at the paper and continued, "Number eighteen – Find a man who will love me for me, and whom I can love for him, and then be in love together, and then in quotations she wrote, 'how poetic'." Theo laughed, though he didn't find it funny. Gazing back into his friend's eyes, he said, "No mention of someone like you there either. Nope. None at all. Shall I continue?"

"Number nineteen is the one we're working on this afternoon. It says, and I'm reading it verbatim here, 'Even though I'm not the sort to dream of a dream wedding, I'd like to have the wedding of my dreams … autumn leaves, outside wedding, perfect weather.' Then her last item, number twenty, was that she wanted to live to be a very old woman, or in other words, find a cure for the curse, so she wouldn't die in six months."

Theo folded the piece of paper and placed it back in his trouser pocket. "No mention of someone like you."

"What?" Blaise whispered. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"What am I doing?" Theo asked back. "What are you doing? Why are you belittling what you are, and what you mean to me? To us?" he retorted, storming to his friend, pointing his finger toward his chest. "What the hell do you mean by a 'person like you'? Do you mean a person whom I love very much? A person who's brought me back from the brink of despair? A person who's helped me know how to love? A person who's helping me to save the life of the woman I love. The person who is giving that woman a child – our child – not just hers, but yours and mine, Blaise! Do you honestly think that she and I don't want you to be part of our lives?"

Now it was Blaise's turn to be angry, and he showed it. With one slash of his wand and a scream from his lips, half of their work came tumbling down around their heads. Theo held his arms up over his head to keep it from hitting him.

After the dust settled, Blaise grabbed Theo by the arms and asked, "You think I'm going to be a part of your lives?"

"Of course!" Theo replied, shocked and somewhat scared.

"What lives?" Blaise returned, shaking Theo. "You won't be here, will you! You're such a liar and a hypocrite, Theodore Nott! You don't love me! You don't care a shite about me! You don't even love her! You wouldn't know love if it came up to you and spit in your eye! You're planning on doing an anti-curse that could possibly take your life for hers!"

Theo froze in shock. If Blaise hadn't still had his hands on Theo's arms, Theo would have crumbled to the ground. He whispered, "How … how do you know?"

"Marcus told us," Blaise confirmed, "and we aren't going to let you do it. There's too much risk involved. It probably won't work, so we aren't even going to let you try it!"

Theo was shaking uncontrollably, but he managed to say, "Yes, it will, Slughorn said it will save her."

Blaise pushed him away. Theo stumbled and fell back on the bench. "That's not what I meant, Theo!" Blaise spat. "I meant that you would probably die in the process!"

Still shaking, shuddering wildly, Theo nodded his head. "Oh, that. Yes, well, that I know." He looked up and said, "But that's okay. She'll still have you, and you'll have her, so see, it'll be okay. You'll be needed. You'll be a part of each other's lives."

Blaise was angrier now than he was earlier. He rushed Theo again, grabbed his shoulders and forced him to stand. "BE OKAY!" he yelled. "WHY THE PRETENSE?" Blaise looked around the mostly ruined nightclub. "Why act as if we're trying to finish the second part of her list, if you're still going to go through with the other cure?"

"Because I love her and I'll die anyway if she dies," Theo mumble.

And just like that, with that one, stupid, little sentence, Blaise's anger ebbed away. He pulled Theo into his chest, placed his arms like tight bands around him. "I'm not letting you do it. You need another person, someone you trust, to help you, and none of the Vipers are going to help you. You have to believe me when I tell you that all will be right with Granger. I've taken care of everything. It will be okay. I promise."

"I want to believe you. Oh, Blaise, I'm just so tired of this long and winding road," Theo said with a small laugh.

"It has been a long journey," Blaise agreed. "But the journey will end soon."

"I don't know if I believe that right now," Theo said. Still enclosed in Blaise's embrace, Theo looked up at the other man. "How are you going to ensure everything will be alright? There are some things you can't fix, Blaise."

"And there are some things I can. Leave it all to Marcus and me. We have a plan, and it will work." He trailed his fingertips down the other man's cheeks in a gentle sweep, resting his hand on his neck. He could feel Theo trembling in his arms, his pulse beating a wild tempo under the tips of his fingers. "Since we can't end our journey tonight, Theo, what else would you want right now, if you could have it?"

"I don't want to forget how I feel when I'm with you like this," Theo said, "but that's what you have planned. You, Marcus, Harry Potter. Isn't that your plan? You're going to take all of this away with that time-turner spell of yours. You'll make Hermione forget about ever loving me. You'll make me forget about loving you. You'll make the baby go away. You'll take away everything."

Now Blaise was slightly aghast and taken by surprise. "How do you know about our plan?"

"Malfoy. He said his father found out somehow, and then Lucius told Pucey, who told Draco, who told me. He's telling Granger right now, she's going to confront Potter tonight, and he's confronting the Vipers at the meeting later. How could you? You peel into me, because you tell me I have no right to give my life for hers, but what are you doing?" Theo tried to get out of Blaise's embrace, but Blaise held on strong.

"It's not the same, Theo, and you know it," Blaise argued. "Anyway, with our plan, everyone will still be alive."

"But she won't love me anymore," Theo whispered.

"But you'll be alive," Blaise countered. "And let's be real, she loved you before she came to live here, and you loved her, and I've been in love with you forever. Nothing can erase that. It might alter it vaguely, but it will come around again."

Theo dropped his head on the other man's shoulder. "But I'll be broken again, too. I won't know how to love. I don't know if I can go through all of that again. And the baby … what about the baby?"

"I'll trade its life for yours any day," was Blaise's answer.

"That's not your call to make," Theo supplied.

"And it's not your call to make, to die in place of Hermione," Blaise leveled. "What if I tell her what you had planned?"

Theo lifted his head. "Please don't."

"Only if you promise me you won't do it," Blaise demanded.

"Will you make the same promise? Will you promise not to do the time-turner spell? Hermione won't let you go through with it once she find out, you know that."

Blaise sighed inwardly. His heart started beating hard inside his chest. He wasn't certain he could make that promise to Theo, but he put a familiar smile on his face and agreed. "I promise." He leaned down and placed his lips to Theo's. The other man's lips were warm and wet, but Blaise was only aware of his own heart drumming between his ears. After a few moments, he lifted his head with a pang of remorse and repeated, "I promise. Now let's get this place ready for your wedding tomorrow."

* * *

_A/N - Chapter 49 is done, too and back from my beta! Perhaps I'll post it Monday! This will not end with one more chapter. It will definitely have at least 2, if not three more, ending with 52 chapters, I would think. I could have put chapters 48 & 49 together, as I had them at first, but I decided to separate them, because the tones were slightly different. But the end is still very, very soon! Probably next week or so. Thanks!_


	49. Chapter 49 Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 49 – Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds**

_Picture yourself in a boat on the river,_

_With tangerine trees and marmalade skies,_

_Somebody calls you, you answer quite slowly,_

_The girl with kaleidoscope eyes,_

_Cellophane flowers of yellow and green,_

_Towering over your head,_

_Look for the girl with the sun in her eyes,_

_And she's gone._

**Part I - A Trio Not Talking –**

Three friends – friends since childhood – were all sitting around Hermione Granger's small kitchen table. It was after eleven o'clock at night, and in one hour, it would be September. With the coming of midnight, and the changing of the month, came the realization that something terrible, or something wonderful, might soon happen to one of them.

Ron stopped by around eight in the evening, Harry around twenty minutes after that. Since that time, the three friends made small talk, told jokes, played with her cat, looked at recent pictures of Harry's new daughter, had tea and biscuits, and reminisced about younger days. They also helped Hermione get ready for her wedding tomorrow, for the next day she was getting married to Theodore Nott, and Ron and Harry were going to walk her down the aisle.

However, when the hour grew later, the day almost done, the three friends grew quieter and quieter, until they were soon not speaking or making any noises at all. At that very moment, the three of them were sitting silently around her table, not talking, not even clinking a spoon against a teacup.

When the hushed vista before her could no longer be endured, Hermione turned her head toward her best friends since childhood, Ron and Harry, and asked, "Why do people say that silence is deafening? Not only is that an oxymoron, but its plain stupid as well. There's nothing poetic about it at all. I've been sitting here for the last hour, listening to nothing but the sounds of our collective breathing, and I can tell you something – silence is not deafening – silence is bloody overrated and about to get on my last, effing nerve."

Ron looked at Harry first, raised one eyebrow (silently telling his mate to say something to her, answer her question, say anything at all) before he turned to Hermione, wordlessly shrugging his reply to her. Harry merely smiled at her and shook his head to signal mutely that he didn't know why, either. Promptly ten seconds after Hermione Granger posed her rhetorical question to her mute friends, she stood in the middle of her flat and she screamed as loudly as she could.

Harry, shocked by her outburst, dropped the tin of nuts he was snacking from, and Ron, well, Ron was so stunned that he gasped, pushed away from the table, and then fell right out of his chair.

Both men went up to her, demanded to know what was wrong, and she said, "I wish everyone would stop acting as if everything was normal! It's almost September! It will soon be my birthday! We don't even know if the curse is lifted yet! I could be dead in a little more than three weeks, and no one seems to care!" Then she fell in a heap on the floor and began to cry.

Ron fell down beside her, patted her back and said, "Of course we care, Hermione. Blimey. Of course, we care!"

"You never want to talk about it!" she pressed, holding her hand on her ever-expanding stomach. Looking at Harry, who was now on the floor with them, she said, "Nor you."

"I didn't know you wanted to talk about it," Harry admitted.

"That's not true," she leveled. "I've tried and tried to open up conversations about it with both of you, ever since you came back months ago, and neither of you want to be confronted with it." She sniffled, then lifted Ron's sleeve, wiped her nose on it, then lowered it back to his lap.

Placing a hand on her stomach, she asked, "And why won't anyone talk to me about the baby? I might die before this little one even gets to live, and yet I can't even voice my cares or concerns about it to anyone." She sobbed harder.

"Voice them now," Harry told her. "What concerns?"

She took her fists, and with each word, hit him on the chest, as she said, "I … Don't … Want … To … Have … To … Tell … You … To … Be … Sensitive!"

Harry grabbed both her fists in his hands, pushed them away from him, and then rubbed his chest with a pained look on his face. "Gor, Hermione, for goodness sakes! Did you have to state such a long sentence to me as you hit me?"

"I'll hit you again, Harry James Potter, if you don't shut up and listen to me!" she said between sniffles. She pushed up from the floor to sit on the couch. "I don't have a mother any longer, so I can't ask her any questions about babies, and I could use you guys right now."

"Why, we aren't mothers?" Ron remarked, moving from the floor to sit on her right side.

She turned to him so swiftly, hand up, that he covered his head, fearing her wrath. Harry climbed on her left side and grabbed her hand before she could strike Ron. "No, but we're both fathers, Ron, and she could have talked to us or to our wives, right, Hermione?" Harry turned Hermione to face him as she nodded.

"I can't talk to Theo or Blaise about this baby," she whispered low, her head on Harry's shoulder. Ron lifted a hand and began to rub her back.

"Why?" Ron asked.

"Neither of them wants to talk about it, either," she said with a shaky voice. "Believe it or not, the only one who will talk about it is Malfoy. He's been the one to take me to most of my Healer appointments, along with Adrian, and he's the only one who wanted to know what sex the baby is."

"What is it?" Harry asked, ashamed that he hadn't inquired sooner.

"It's a boy," she said proudly. "A baby boy. I'm going to name him William Theodore. Blaise's father's name was William." She stood, leaving her friends on the couch, turned, faced them, and added, "And I'll probably die before I give birth to it, and it won't have a chance at life, or only I'll die and it will live, or I don't know what will happen to him. I mean, I'm so scared for him, even though the Healers say that with magic he'll probably survive, though he'll be small, even if I don't … still, what does that mean for his future. I have no one to talk to about this."

"You say you haven't talked to Blaise or Theo?" Ron said, suddenly angry. He stood. "Theo should be there for you. He's supposed to love you, and I thought Blaise was the father. Isn't he 'involved' somehow with Theo, too? Seems to me he has a funny way of showing it!"

Hermione walked up to Ron, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and barked, "Seems to me you have a funny way of showing me that you're my best friend, too, Ronald Weasley, so don't you dare condemn them! This is a lot for Theo Nott to go through, you know! He's a fragile person, and Blaise is trying to figure out where he fits into everything, especially given the way we're completing the second part of the list, so don't you dare say a bad word about them!"

"But you can say we're bad friends!" Ron argued.

She pushed him hard enough that he fell on the couch. Pointing at him, she said, "I can say it, but I wouldn't let any of them say it!"

Frowning, she walked over to the kitchen table, picked up the chair that Ron had knocked over earlier, and then used her wand to clean up all the nuts from the floor where Harry had spilled them. Suddenly, she felt Harry's hands on her shoulders.

"Hermione?" he asked.

She didn't answer. She remained, quiet, silent, and still.

"You could be worrying about it all for naught. Perhaps you'll survive past your birthday, not deliver this child until you're nine months pregnant, and everything will be fine.

Lifting her head, she said, "You don't really believe that, Harry, or you wouldn't have gotten special permission from the Ministry of Magic to use that Time Turner spell on me."

His mouth dropped open.

Ron came to stand behind Hermione. "What's she talking about, mate?"

Hermione didn't face Ron. Her eyes remained locked on Harry's green eyes as she said, "Didn't he tell you, Ron? He, Blaise and Marcus Flint got special permission to use a Time Turner spell on me. It's very rare; supposedly, it's only been done twice. McGonagall told them about it, isn't that right, Harry?"

"How did you find out?"

She pushed Harry so hard that he fell into the table, knocking the tin of nuts back off the table, spilling nuts all over the floor again.

"Draco Malfoy told me!" she shouted. "How dare you decide to do such a spell without consulting me? Did you even think about whether or not I'd want such a spell done to me?"

"No, I didn't," he answered honestly. "I was thinking about what I thought was best, in other words, I was thinking like Hermione Granger."

"What is this spell? How would you use a Time Turner to save her?" Ron asked. He approached Harry. "I mean, surely you can't suggest that she go all the way back to last year, before she went into the cave, and then change things from there! You'd be changing so many lives if you did that, Harry! The Ministry would never agree to that!"

Harry merely stared silently at his friends, admitting nothing, but saying SO much.

Before Hermione could argue, Ron did it for her. "But would you even save the other two people's lives? The two who went in the cave before her?"

Harry shook his head no.

"What about her baby? I mean, if she didn't go in the cave, she wouldn't have made her list, or quit or job, or left her old flat. She wouldn't have become tangled up with the Slytherins! She wouldn't have fallen in love with Theo, or gotten pregnant with Blaise's baby!"

Finally, Harry spoke. "No, but she'd be alive."

"And who are you to play God like that, Harry Potter?" Hermione asked.

"I'm the man who saved the Wizarding world from destruction, and I've never asked anything in return, so they owe me. They owe me, Hermione, so they're going to do this for me. It wasn't even my idea in the first place. It was Marcus Flint's."

She suddenly gasped. "You'll be changing the course of his life, too. What of him and Daphne?"

"He's aware of that. He said he'll marry her," Harry answered.

She grasped Ron's hand. "And Blaise? You said Blaise knew about this?" she asked Harry.

"Marcus felt he had to consult Zabini, seeing you were carrying his baby, and Zabini was okay with everything," Harry said softly, suddenly sounding embarrassed.

"HE WAS OKAY!" Hermione shouted. "IT'S MY BABY, TOO!" She turned to the table, where she left her wand, but Ron was quicker. "Give me my wand, Ronald! I want to hex Harry Potter so badly I can taste it!"

Ron held Hermione's wand over his head, but said to Harry, "You had no right to make these kinds of decisions for people, Harry. What about Theo Nott? Hermione would have forgotten that she was in love with him, and she's finally happy. She's happier with him than I've seen her in ages."

Hermione's anger ebbed away slowly as she thought of Theo. "Yes, what about Theo? Did you think of Theo?"

Harry sighed, long and for a change, loudly. "We were all thinking of Theo Nott. He arranged with Professor Slughorn to perform a spell that would give up his life for yours, if 'the list cure' didn't work in the end. That's why Blaise wanted to do this. He was doing it to save Theo, so was Marcus."

Harry sat back on the sofa, pulling the cat up on his lap. Stroking Boo's fur, he said, "Someone has to sacrifice something here, Hermione. Who should it be? Who will it be? I don't know, I just don't know. And you're right. I'm not God. I shouldn't be making these decisions, but neither should Theo. He's planning to do his spell not even knowing if 'the list cure' works or not, because he claims he can't risk that. Do you want to risk losing him? Tell me what to do, Hermione. What do you want me to do?"

Pushing the cat off his lap, he held out his hand for her.

She placed her hand in his, sat down next to him, and placed her cheek upon his shoulder. "No wonder none of you wanted to talk about the baby with me. You, Blaise, and Marcus thought the baby wasn't going to be here much longer, and that I wasn't going to remember it anyway. Likewise, I'm sure you felt some guilt about everything. And Theo, well, he's probably anxious about his spell. He thinks he's on borrowed time, and if anyone can relate to that feeling, it's me."

She looked at Ron. "And I suppose you didn't talk about the baby with me because you're an insensitive git."

"Right you are, Hermione," Ron said with a smile, planting his arse next to hers on the couch. "Wait a moment, how is it that Malfoy told you all about what Harry had planned, when he just revealed that it was only Marcus and Blaise who were helping him?"

Harry thought a second, and waited for her to divulge that as well.

"Draco's sneaky," Hermione said with a shrug. "He said that he could tell something was off, and everyone was acting strangely, so he started following people, snooping into their things, and listening to private conversations. Finally, he went to his father, and Lucius confirmed it somehow. You know, it does affect him, too, because he's engaged to Daphne now, and happy about it in the end. Therefore, he told me everything, and he called an emergency Viper meeting to confront all of the other Vipers about it this very night."

"I wonder if any of them got physically assaulted tonight," Harry pondered, while rubbing his chest.

Hermione merely glared at him, ruefully. She held out her hand to Ron, fingers twitching. "My wand, Ron."

"Careful, chum," Ron laughed, "or I'll give her back her wand. You could use a good hex or two about now, in my opinion, so take care."

"And I thought you both were my best friends," Harry sighed, frowning, as he pulled out his own wand to clean up the nuts that had spilled. Then he decided to keep his wand in his hand … just in case, just in case.

* * *

_A/N I still think she should hex him!_


	50. Chapter 50 The End

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 50 – The End**

_The End –_

_And in the End,_

_The love you take,_

_Is equal to the love,_

_You make_

_Lennon/McCartney_

* * *

Coughing once before he cleared his throat, Draco Malfoy looked up at the gray sky. "The weather's rather appropriate today, don't you think?" he asked his companion.

The man sitting on the front stoop next to him didn't look up at the sky. Instead, he was watching a small army of ants walking toward a crack in the sidewalk near their feet. Walking in a crooked line, they were, nonetheless, promenading in rank, none of them breaking position or going off on their own. He remembered when the Vipers used to be like that – a long time ago.

Draco nudged the other man's arm. "Did you hear me?"

"I'm not deaf. I heard you; I just didn't know I was meant to comment. If I was going to comment, I would say, appropriate for what?"

Draco sneered, "Appropriate for what? Are you daft? For the event in which we're about to attend – I swear, your head's in the clouds these days, or should I say it's on the ground – whatever are you looking at, old man?"

"I'm watching these ants." He motioned to the insects with the foot closest to the ants.

Draco looked down at the ground, took the toe of his shoe, and smashed the majority of the ants into nothingness. "Ants. I swear. He's watching ants. They're dead ants now," Draco said to himself, since his cohort wasn't inclined to talk about anything but nonsense. "I sent an invitation to Potter and Weasley, you know."

"Did you now?" the other man said, lounging back on the steps. The cement was hard on his back, his long legs stretching out in front of him. "Did they say they would come?"

"Potter did." Draco nudged the other man with his arm, "Look at that." He pointed toward a large, ominous cloud in the sky. "It looks as if it might rain, which will be even better. Yes, an excellent day for what I have planned."

"You're warped and slightly bent," the man replied. "Speaking of warped and slightly bent, how's your father dealing with the news of Daphne's pregnancy?"

Draco laughed. "Pleased as can be, pleased as can be. Mother is as well, even though the pregnancy followed the wedding by only a few degrees. Father said if it's a boy he's by-passing me as his heir-apparent and naming my kid instead. If it's a girl, he's going to do the same."

The other man laughed. "In other words, poor little Draco's out of the will."

Draco joined the laughter. "Yes, but not in other words, in plain words … I'm out of the will."

"Perhaps if it's a girl, she can marry little William someday," his friend said wistfully. "Wouldn't that be nice? It would connect everyone. Really connect us."

"Yes, that would nice, although we're already connected," Draco agreed. "He's a beautiful kid. Having him around was what made me think that – yeah, I could do that – I could have one of those."

"He's good with him," the man on his right said, indicating another man who was pushing little William in a pram not too far from where the two men were sitting on the front stoop of the large, four story townhouse in a swanky, Muggle neighbourhood.

Draco stared at the man and baby a few blocks away. "Indeed. He's great with him." A moment of silence, then, "Hard to believe the little chap was so small and ill at birth, but then, he did make an early appearance, didn't he?"

"He's a big boy now," his companion chimed in with a smile on his handsome face. He turned on the steps to face Draco. "Why didn't you just plan a birthday party for him today, even though it's a few days before his birthday? That would have been enough, Malfoy. Why do we have to have an event to commemorate this sort of thing? It's nonsense. Some people may want to forget."

Draco glared at the man. "You're speaking only for yourself. Most people want to remember the events of the past year." He stood. "Come on. It's time." Bringing his hands up to his mouth, Draco called out toward the other man pushing the pram down the sidewalk. "Come on now! Bring the baby to the back garden! It's time! Potter will be here soon!"

The man on the stoop was still shaking his head no. He didn't think it was time. In his opinion, it would never be time. He stayed on the front stoop after Draco and their friend took baby William around to the back. He didn't care what Draco Malfoy said. Not everyone wanted to remember what happened a year ago. Not everyone wanted to have a damn ceremony to observe anything to do with it.

He knew HE didn't need a ceremony to remember anything from last year. He remembered it all as if it happened yesterday. How could he forget any of it? If he forgot it, then he would have to forget what he felt for her, and then if he forgot what he felt for her, he would have to forget him.

He looked up at the large, gray cloud above his head and wished for the rain that Malfoy said would come. Maybe the rain _would_ come. Maybe a large downpour, a mighty deluge, would wash them all in a holy baptism, washing away all the pain they felt, all the sins they had committed, all the desires they had coveted. Perhaps all the excruciating, sad memories, which were like a heavy anchor around their necks, would float away on a flood of rain water, instead of drowning them in a sea of grief.

Then, perhaps the torn, delicate fabric of what was once a strong friendship between five men, which was now only a fragile acquaintanceship of four, would start to mend again.

But then again, maybe not.

**One year ago:**

"Did you think you would get away with the Time Turner spell without someone finding out about it?" Draco asked lazily, swirling his drink in his hand, leaning against the fireplace of the living room of the house he shared with Theo Nott. "Granger's upstairs right now giving Potter and Weasley what for, and I have to tell you, I don't know when I've ever been angrier, so don't let this calm exterior fool any of you."

Blaise looked guilty, while Marcus looked annoyed. Adrian was upset, while Theo's emotions were harder to read.

"Fine, you're angry, and so is the cub. I understand all of that. What I don't understand is how you found out," Blaise said. "When Theo told me you all knew earlier, I was shocked."

Shrugging with one shoulder, Draco said, "There are a few advantageous to being Lucius Malfoy's son. Most of them involve having wealth, a handsome face, being rather well endowed, and having a good hair gene, but once in a while, others come into play. This was one of them."

"I don't know how I didn't find out," Adrian said with a pout. "I'm a damned Unspeakable! A Secret Keeper! The Minister of Magic should have told me, even if my best friends didn't trust me! Furthermore, I'm the one who got Granger into this mess, so I should be the one who gets her out!"

No one said anything to that. Finally, Theo said, "As I told Blaise, there's no way Hermione will let you do this Time Turner spell."

"And as I told Theo, there's no way Hermione will let Theo give his life for hers either, so I think we're at an old-fashioned impasse," Blaise announced, leaning back on the couch, glaring at Theo who was sitting next to him.

Theo refused to look at him. Instead, he looked at Marcus over on the opposite sofa. "You were never going to help me, were you, Flint? Why pretend? Why go with me when I went to talk to Slughorn? For months you were lying to me. You could have been honest with me. I hate dishonesty."

"Really? Do you hate it as much as I do?" Marcus asked, leaning forward on the sofa where he sat, on the other side of the coffee table. "And do you want to know what I hate more than dishonest friends? I hate dead friends. Call me mad, but I do," Marcus said with a lighter tone than he felt.

"Gentlemen, and as it's clear to me, I use that phrase very lightly," Draco began, "I hate to stop all of this fun, friendly banter, but you do realize that the answer's clear, don't you?" Draco placed his glass on the mantel.

"Coaster, please," Theo mumbled, not looking up.

"Oh, give it a rest," Blaise sneered. "Who cares about rings on the furniture or fixtures if you're going to be dead in two weeks? Talk about lying and pretending. You've been lying all summer long – planning a wedding with a woman when you knew it was for nothing! Planning a life, a future, and happiness with a woman when you knew you weren't going to be there to share it! Worst of all, acting as if you loved her – acting as if you loved me – when you thought you'd be dead. You pretended that you were going to help her finish her list, when you really didn't give a fuck about her list, so I repeat, who gives a shite about a few rings on the mantelpiece!"

Theo looked up at that, flinched as he stood, but then composed himself as he picked up a marble coaster from the coffee table. He walked over to the Draco, giving Blaise a dirty look along the way. "Perhaps the next owner of this house will care! In fact, I planned a lot of things this summer, like my will. You see, I left this house to you and Hermione."

"I don't want your fucking house or your fucking coasters!" Blaise yelled, also standing. He threw a pillow at the back of Theo's head. It hit him hard, but not hard enough in Blaise's opinion.

Theo turned, right in front of Draco and the fireplace, coaster still in hand. "Fine! I guess if you don't care, I don't care!" Theo threw the marble coaster across the room, where it broke a vase on a bookshelf, before it crashed to the floor.

"For goodness sakes!" Draco shouted, "I'll use the bloody coaster!" He pulled his wand from his trousers, fixed the broken vase, and then ... "Accio coaster," he said. The coaster flew to his hand. He placed it under his drink on the mantel and shouted, "Sit down, the both of you, or I'll restrain you, so help me I will!"

Marcus pulled Theo down to sit on the sofa next to him, and Adrian stood from his place next to the bar, and then forced Blaise back in his seat on the other sofa, sitting beside him.

"As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted," Draco started, "the course is clear. We must let things go as they were intended to go in the beginning. We'll let 'the list cure' commence. Granger is upstairs wringing Potbelly-stove and Weasel-mutt through the wringer as we speak, telling them the same thing. We both feel it's the best course of action. Theo and Granger will marry tomorrow, and then she'll have the babe, early of course, a week later at St. Mungo's. Her birthday will be a week after that."

The room was extremely quiet, but Draco continued. "We've already talked to her Healers, and they have everything planned. They've even contacted some of the best neo-natal Muggle doctors, and with magic and Muggle medicine, the little tyke will have a good chance of survival."

Theo exhaled a heavy breath. "But why should she deliver the babe early, if you think the cure will work? She won't have to deliver early if you let me do my anti-curse. That way, both she and baby William are assured to live."

Blaise picked up another pillow, was about to throw it at Theo's head, but instead he practically flew over the coffee table and jumped on top of him. He started hitting Theo with the pillow, hard, shocking the other Vipers. "But you'll be dead, you arse!" Finally, he threw the pillow on the floor and sat his own arse on the coffee table, to face the sofa in front of him.

Theo's arms were still around his head (where they were previously protecting it from a pillow attack), but lowering them, he said, "There's a chance I'll die, and a chance I won't, but it doesn't matter, because I'll do what I must for her, and even for you and your baby." He stood up, and walked around the sofa, to stand in the doorway. "But apparently, it's a moot point now, and this conversation's over. It seems I've been outvoted, so be it. If Marcus won't help me, then fine, I guess we have to do what we have to do, but only if Blaise and Marcus promise they won't do the Time Turner spell."

"He's giving in too easily," Adrian said, suspiciously.

"I think so, too," Marcus agreed.

"Still, he can't do the spell alone," Blaise added, a trace of truculence in his voice, "Which means we must trust him, I suppose."

"Then I say you two agree, and let's all get some sleep. Big day, tomorrow, you know," Draco proclaimed.

Theo shook his head. "Everyone's talking as if I'm not in the room. Just agree, gentlemen, blah, blah, using term loosely." He slumped against the wall. "I'm going to bed, because I'm getting married tomorrow."

He climbed the stairs slowly, but once in his room he sent an Owl to Gregory Goyle.

**Back to the Present:**

Greg Goyle joined Draco in the back garden of the large town house where Draco used to live with Theo Nott. "Where is everyone?" Greg asked.

Draco sighed in disgust. "Most of the invitees are here, but they're dawdling around inside. Daphne is changing little William's nappies. He soiled them right before the ceremony, the spoiled little bugger."

Greg laughed. "So the other Vipers are coming?"

Draco inhaled sharply through his nose. "What's left of them. They were just outside with me. As to whether I'll get them out here is another matter."

"Maybe the back garden holds too many bad memories for them," the larger man said insightfully. "It was the place where only a year ago Granger and Theo married … and well, you know, think of what happened here all those years ago with Astoria and Theo."

Draco hit Greg upside the back of his head and snapped, "Thank you for the history lesson, Goyle. I'd forgotten all about everything."

Greg winced. "No reason to get all touchy."

"You know," Draco barked, "some people didn't even want to invite you!" Draco walked over to the grove of pine trees that sat around the stone patio and placed a small, wooden box on the stone bench that was there.

"Why?" the man asked, confusion written all over his face.

Draco whipped around to face him. "Why? Why indeed. Some might blame you, you know."

Greg folded his arms over his chest and stated, "He asked me for help and I helped him. None of you would, so I did. I didn't see the harm then, and I don't see the harm now. It was for Granger, Malfoy. For Granger. I would do it again, if I had the chance, and nothing and no one can make me feel guilty about the choices I made. If you want me to leave, I'll leave."

Draco stared at the other man for a mere few seconds. "What happened to the boy I used to bully when we were younger?"

"He grew up to be a decent man, somehow," Greg replied. "I'd like to think Granger influenced me a bit."

"Wonders of wonders," Malfoy smiled. He patted Greg's arm. "Here, help me with the box. We'll get everything ready while we wait for the rest to appear."

**One Year Ago, Moments before the Wedding:**

The Vipers were in Theo's room helping him get ready for his wedding, laughing at his nerves, joking about the upcoming nuptials. Personally, he would prefer that they leave him alone. Even so, these men would always be a part of him. Somehow, they haunted him even when he was alone. When he was a child, they stood beside him, through every heartache and battle, through every hurt and conflict.

When he died someday they would probably haunt him to his grave.

The same thing was true of Hermione Granger. She was a part of him now. He could no sooner let her leave him than he could sever his own heart. He didn't want to die – to leave her – but he didn't want her to die either.

How unfair was his life? Why couldn't he find love and keep it? It was as if he was sentence to a lifetime of hell here on earth, a lifetime of half pieces, a lifetime of false starts. It was as if the devil himself was forever tempting him, showing him love, giving him a sense of peace, only to take it away again, only to laugh in his face, tempt him, telling him he was never meant to know true love.

He didn't want it taken away this time. If anyone took it away this time, it would be him. Therefore, no matter what anyone said, he knew what he had to do. That alone made him more nervous than any wedding ceremony ever would.

"Where's your tie?" Marcus asked Theo.

"Somewhere," Theo said, as if in a daze.

"Good answer," Draco laughed. "He is nervous, chaps!"

"Give him a break. It's his wedding day," Marcus censured, right before he gave Draco a two finger salute.

Adrian swatted Draco on the thigh, and then pushed him off the bed completely. "Malfoy was sitting on the blasted thing!" Adrian accused. "Here, stand up, Theo, and let me put your tie on you."

Theo stood, still in a daze.

Blaise slumped in the corner of the room, watching. "Adrian, hold off a moment," he suggested. "Theo's not even shaved yet."

"Haven't you?" Draco asked. "Well, Granger's a Muggle-born. She probably likes them on the slightly homeless looking side."

Adrian laughed. "That makes no sense!" He threw the tie at Marcus who said, "It does if your brain is in the head of Draco Malfoy."

"Can everyone leave for a moment," Theo said softly. Blaise was the only one who heard.

Adrian, Draco and Marcus continued to laugh and rag on each other, until finally, Theo shouted, "LEAVE! EVERYONE! LEAVE!"

"Touchy, touchy!" Draco teased. "He's nervous about the wedding night. Let me give you a couple of pointers. First, don't worry; because I have it on good authority that she's not exactly a virgin."

"Please," Theo said again, falling on the side of his bed, eyes shut tight.

Draco placed a hand on Theo's shoulder, leaned down and whispered something in his ear, then he said, "Out Pucey, you too, Flint." They started to leave, as did Blaise. "I think he wants you to stay, Zabini, old boy."

"Do you?" Blaise asked. Theo nodded numbly. Once the rest left, Blaise asked, "What did Draco whisper in your ear?"

Theo smiled. "He told me not to worry either, because he got me a book on how to have sex with a Muggle-born for a wedding present."

"Good old Malfoy." Blaise walked up to stand between Theo's legs. He placed one hand in the other man's hair, brushing it back and forth. "You should have gotten a hair cut before the wedding."

"I know," Theo agreed. "But I've had other things on my mind the last few weeks."

"Right, trying to figure out how to kill yourself for Hermione." Blaise's fingertips drifted down to Theo's cheeks. "And you really should have shaved."

"Too nervous. I would have cut my throat." Theo held up a hand. He was shaking.

"Remove your shirt," Blaise ordered, pulling out his wand. "We'll do this the way my mother taught me. It's part magical, part Muggle. We'll still need a good lather. Where's your shaving lotion?"

Theo pointed toward the bathroom. Blaise walked in the other room, came out with the lotion, a towel, and a few other things. He worked a small dollop of lotion into a quick lather between his hands and then placed both hands on Theo's cheeks. "Chin up," Blaise ordered.

"I'm not upset," Theo said.

"I meant literally, chin up, or I might cut you. My wand is now an instrument of destruction and grooming, thank you very much." He passed over the other man's face several times with his wand, cleaning the wand off on the towel as it draped across Theo's thighs. Once Theo was clean shaven, Blaise took another towel and patted Theo's cheeks. Pulling him to a standing position, he helped him back into his shirt, buttoned it up efficiently, shoved the shirttail back into the trousers, and then stood back and said, "Not too bad."

"I like it when you fuss over me," Theo decided.

"Those days are done," Blaise said lightly. "You'll have your wife to do all of that now."

Theo's throat felt tight. He pulled Blaise into an unyielding hug. "Do you forgive me for leaving you out of this?"

"You needed to fulfill her list, that's all this wedding is," Blaise said, patting Theo's back in small, uneven pats. "I'm not being left out, so I understand. I'll still be around. You are having my kid, you know."

"Do you forgive me for thinking about leaving you?" Theo asked. "Please, forgive me."

"You weren't going to leave me, not really," Blaise said, even though he knew that – yes, he really was going to leave him – Theo had planned to leave everyone. He thought he was doing what was right, but Theo had a warped sense of right and wrong. He didn't know love, not truly, not yet, not fully, and not completely. "You thought you were going to leave her with me, so I understand, but I'm not happy about it all. Don't expect me to be. You can bloody well leave me out of your life forever, Theo Nott, just don't ever _'leave me'_ leave me, understand?"

Theo nodded.

Adrian stood in the doorway watching the other two men embrace, a note from Greg Goyle for Theo in his hand. He balled the note in his fist, placed it in his pocket (after having already read it), and cleared his throat. He said, "I was sent to get you. Draco said to hurry. We're on a schedule."

"You would think he's the one getting married," Blaise laughed, taking Theo's hand and leading the way down the stairs and outside to Theo's wedding ceremony.

Adrian patted both men's backs as they walked by him, and only then did he take out the note from Greg Goyle that he had stuffed into his pocket, which had arrived by Owl only five minutes ago. The note said that Greg would be happy to take Marcus' place in the spell to help save Granger, and that Greg and Slughorn would meet Theo right after the wedding.

Adrian knew that by now Theo probably thought that Greg wasn't going to show. It was all for the best. Really it was. He tucked the note further into the depths of his pocket and ran down the stairs into the back garden.

**Right after the Wedding:**

Theo was a bit frantic.

He had been searching for Hermione for over a half an hour and couldn't find her anywhere. Nothing was happening as he had planned … first, his plan to save Hermione by sacrificing his life for hers was uncovered by his mates. Then, his second plan to do the same spell (without Marcus, but with Greg Goyle) was also unraveling due to the fact that Greg not only didn't show up for the wedding, but he did even bother sending word as to whether or not he would help him by Owl or any other means.

Likewise, he knew the Time Turner spell was safely tucked away, because Lucius Malfoy assured him of this to his face BEFORE the wedding. Therefore, he had no safety net left that Hermione would live after her birthday if 'the list cure' didn't work.

And now he had lost her, not figuratively, but literately.

Theo started to wash his hands in her little bathroom, which was where her cat was hiding, when he spied her bathroom window partly open. Ah, could it be that she was out there as she had been one time before?

Sticking his head out the window to stare at the slanted roof that was over the eave off the bathroom area, he spied her, huddled in a small ball (even though she was now rounder than a ball).

"Are you hiding out here, on the roof no less, brave little Gryffindor that you are?" Theo asked Hermione.

She smiled, held out her hand, and nodded. "Yes. Don't tell anyone where I am. Will you join me?"

"What if I'm afraid out here on the roof?" he asked, one eyebrow raised, a half, crooked smile on his handsome face.

"I'll protect you," she promised. "It's fun to be up here. We can spy on everyone down below."

He placed his hand in hers, but barely made it out the small portal. Once beside her, he said, "The last time you were out here you were crying. I think I see a tear this time, too. Are you happy or sad that we ended up getting married here in the back garden, instead of at Blaise's club?" Theo leaned down to scoot his body next to hers, and then placed their joined hands on his lap.

"Seriously, these are happy tears, and although I'm sure you had the club decorated very nicely, a true autumn wonderland, this was wonderful," she beamed. "Harry and Ron did a magnificent job decorating the back garden, changing all the leaves' hues to red, yellow and orange. I heard Blaise left the club in shambles after he found out what you had planned. No, this was superb. My boys are very handy with Transfiguration." She smiled proudly.

He laughed. "You sound like a proud mother."

She placed her head on his shoulder, while he placed an arm around her. "I taught them everything they know." Her hand went to the front buttons of his shirt, and she fiddled with them slightly. "I was so lonely before I found them."

"Were they lost back then, too?" he asked lightly, his chin upon the top of her head.

"No, but I think I felt that way before I found you. Funny, that." She laced her hand in his. "You know, I shouldn't let you off so easily. I shouldn't be so happy right now. I should be angry with you." Her hair tickled his nose. "I was meant to yell at you for planning on leaving me before our lives began, but I was too tired last night, and then today was my wedding day, and I think I read somewhere that a bride shouldn't tell her groom to sod off on their wedding day, don't you know, and you recited such lovely vows to me during the ceremony, so it didn't seem the right time to yell at you."

"All of that's true," he reflected, her cheek now over his heart. He rubbed his thumb under eye to capture what was left from the moisture of her tears. "But let's get back to these tears. Remember right after you moved in here, and I found you crying out here on the roof? My heart almost broke for you that day … actually, that was the day I found out that I still had a heart."

"And that was the day I knew I loved you, too," she said softly, closing her eyes. "Not to change the subject, but I'm so exhausted I could honestly fall asleep." The breeze lifted her hair, and caused her to open her eyes, but only for a fraction of a second, before she closed them again. "Do you mind if we miss our little honeymoon trip to Draco's chalet? I'm so tired."

"Sleep, love," he suggested, even as he saw Blaise leaning through the small bathroom window.

"I'll Disapparate out there and bring her inside, if you'd like. Shall I take her from you?" Blaise asked.

Theo had many things he could say to that one little question. Instead, he nodded, moving her gently, easily, toward the open window. Blaise Disapparated outside, extracted her from Theo's arms and then popped back inside, leaving Theo alone on the roof.

**Back to the Present:**

Harry Potter walked into the back garden, followed by Daphne Greengrass Malfoy, Marcus Flint and Blaise Zabini, who was holding his son, William Theodore. Draco looked up from his toil as they came into view and harped, "About bloody time. Hurry up now. Are you lot the only ones coming?"

"I would say so, since we're the only ones here," Marcus replied. "I would have brought my friends the ants, but you squashed them with your foot out on the front walk."

"He's talking about ants again," Draco said, shaking his head. "Fine, let's get started.

He picked up the little wooden box he had previously placed on the stone bench. The box was made of a dark mahogany, and it had fine inlaid etchings on the tops and sides. "I found this box in Diagon Alley with Granger, right before her wedding. She picked it out, just in case we'd need it for this very thing," he said clearly. He looked up at the others.

Harry alone was looking at him, his clear green eyes meeting Draco's cool silver gaze. The Vipers, what was left of them, were each staring elsewhere, and Greg was looking at the wooden box. Daphne was cooing softly to William, who was babbling back to her in return.

"I also promised her that I would hold this ceremony, come hell or high water, no matter what, and she said that if I did, to at least do it on a day that would be memorable. She made me promise NOT to do it on the anniversary of her wedding day, which was last week. She said not to do it on little William's birthday, which is iin a few days. She said if anything should happen to her or anyone else, not to do it on those days. Well, that didn't leave me much choice, did it? Her birthday was out, next Tuesday's out, as that's the anniversary of his death, so I picked today."

Draco turned to Greg and instructed, "Go on now."

Greg picked up a small shovel and manually began to shovel away dirt and debris near the small grove of trees. He shoveled until the hole under the trees was big enough to house the box.

Draco and the others gathered close. "I won't make a big speech, even though that's Granger's favourite thing to do. I'll merely say, rest in peace … ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Yes, finally, rest in peace." He knelt down, placed the box in the ground, slowly, reverently, and then sprinkled a small amount of dirt from the mound beside it on top.

Blaise handed the baby to Daphne, knelt down next, pushed a mound of dirt on top of the box, and repeated, "Rest in peace."

Harry merely looked down in the hole, but then he turned around and walked back toward the townhouse to go inside.

Marcus kicked a small amount of dirt inside with his foot, but he didn't say anything while doing it. Instead, he looked at Draco and said, "Why wait a year?"

"I made a promise to her that I would," Draco replied. "For some reason it was important to her to wait. I think she needed it."

Marcus pulled Draco into his arms, held him, and said into his ear, "You're a good friend, Malfoy. I've never appreciated that fact." Pushing him away, he walked toward Daphne, took William from her arms, and walked with Blaise back toward the house.

Draco smiled and held out his hand to his new wife. "Do you think I'm a good man, darling?"

"You're the best," she offered, and they also started into the house, pausing only long enough for Draco to turn back once. "Are you coming, Goyle?"

Greg stood from his place on the ground, rushed to Draco and Daphne, and laughed while he said, "Did I tell you about the time Granger hit me after I called her mudblood?"

"No, do tell," Draco said sarcastically.

**A Year Ago:**

The child was born. He was so small and fragile. Hermione was worrying herself sick over him. She was exhausted and scared.

Potter finally convinced her to leave St. Mungo's for a full night's rest at the townhouse. She moved like a zombie through the house, at first going up to her old flat, but then remembering that she had moved her things down to Theo's room. She started to walk into his large bedroom then faltered in the threshold of the doorway.

Some invisible force kept her from entering. Shivering, she remained in the doorway. A man walked up behind her, placed his hands on her shoulders. "Are you cold?"

"No, just tired. So very tired," she said in a whisper.

He felt the worn fabric of her favourite brown jumper under the palms of his hands. "Didn't you promise Malfoy you'd throw this old thing out?" he asked lightly, turning her around to face him.

"I can't right now. I need it. It gives me comfort. I'll throw it out when I no longer need it." She leaned closer, her nose pressing into his chest and his jaw tightened. He glanced into the bedroom and sighed. Inwardly he cursed, brushing a lock of hair away from her cheek.

There were dark circles under her eyes. "William will be okay." He didn't know what else to say.

"No one else will be," she mumbled.

He knew what she meant. It was as if a wild animal with teeth jagged and raw had savagely come into their folds and had torn out all of their hearts. Heart like hers were especially easily broken and fragile, so she was in the most pain at their recent loss.

Why did he do it? He held her closer and growled under his breath. Why hadn't he waited? Hadn't they all agreed that they would let 'the list cure' unfold? Now there was no way to protect Hermione and William. There was no way to protect any of them.

And he was dead. Slughorn's little counter-curse was set into motion. Greg Goyle helped him, and there was no way to know if it worked yet because Hermione's birthday was still two days away. So on top off her worrying about her tiny, ill baby, and the death of someone they all loved, she still had to worry about her possible impending death.

He didn't think about that, did he? Did he do it for love, or for selfish reasons?

He looked back down at Hermione as she stood in his arms and noticed that she was asleep on her feet. He picked her up, walked into the bedroom, and placed her on the bed. Then, he Disapparated to St. Mungo's.

The baby was so small. This was the first time he had seen him. He had a shock of dark hair on the top of his head. His skin was darker than his mother's, lighter than his fathers. He would be a truly beautiful little boy.

He reached down and placed a finger on the baby's cheek. A Healer walked up and said, "You can pick him up."

"Is he well enough?" he asked.

"Yes, he is," she answered.

He picked the baby up from the crib. He weighed no more than a feather quill, and didn't make a single sound. With closed eyes and a puckered mouth, the baby was beyond beautiful. The man lifted the tiny baby to his mouth, kissed his cheek, then placed him gently back down into the crib.

"I love you, William. We'll all be there for you forever," he promised.

He Apparated back to the bedroom where he left Hermione and glanced at the bed. She looked beautiful even when she was utterly exhausted and full of grief. Would she be here beyond tomorrow? Would she be here to see her child grow?

How selfish of his friend to do that spell on the pretense of love. Leaving this woman behind wasn't love. It was madness.

He turned from her and touched the black, polished piano in the corner of the large room. Then he sat down and began to play.

**Present Day**

Hermione stood by the window of the bedroom watching the scene below while Theo played the grand piano. He began to sing, so she turned to watch him. He truly sang like an angel, and played with the intensity and passion of an artist. Watching him, she felt awed and inspired. She felt as if she stood in the doorway of a great cathedral, one if which she wasn't worthy to enter.

"The Beatles," she said, moving closer.

He finished his song, and then turned on the bench to face her. "It's called, 'The End'. Are they done with Malfoy's little ceremony?"

"Yes, it appears so. I feel guilty that we didn't go down, but I truly wasn't up to attending. Not very many attended. Just Blaise, Marcus, Greg, Daphne and Harry, oh, and William," she said, wrapping the ends of her new cream colour jumper tighter around her waist.

"That's a pretty jumper," he said, smiling.

"Cashmere," she said. "Malfoy promised me a year ago that if I let him bury my old brown jumper he would buy me a cashmere jumper in every colour imaginable. He kept up his end of the bargain by buying me over 42 jumpers, and today, when I finally relinquished my old brown one, I kept up my end of the bargain." She turned back to the window. "I almost hate to see the old thing go – especially being buried under ground – but it was time."

"If I recall," Theo started, "you told him he could have it after our wedding."

"Yes I did, but then it was so touch and go with the baby those first couple of days, and then everything that happened after the wedding, I needed the comfort of my old brown jumper," she said, walking toward him. "Accordingly, I made him promise to wait until I was ready, and I was ready until now. I thought waiting a year would help us all heal."

He held out his hand. She placed her hand in his and sat on his lap as he sat on the bench. "I understand. You needed it. I recall how exhausted and fragile you were after the baby was born, and after Adrian died. It was so soon after our wedding. I recall carrying you up here from St. Mungo's, and you had it on that day. I placed you on the bed, and you were wrapped up in it, and it was as if that old brown jumper was the only thing keeping you together." He said it softly.

He knew he didn't need to remind her of any of the rest of it. He didn't need to remind any of them what Adrian had done for them.

She nodded. "I still wonder sometimes which cure save me. Was it 'the list cure' or was it the cure that Slughorn gave you, but which Adrian did. We'll never know."

Theo swallowed the lump in his throat, clenched his teeth and agreed. "No, we'll never know. But, his intention was to give his life for those he loved, you and me, so I like to think he didn't die in vain. I like to think Adrian is the reason we're all alive … you, me, and William."

She placed a hand on his cheek and smiled. "That's a nice thought, Theo."

"Let's go downstairs and join the others, and then we'll go home. I can hardly stand being here these days." Theo ran his hand along his old piano one last time, and then sighed loudly. They both stood. "It's a wonder Marcus kept the piano in here, since this is his bedroom now and he doesn't even play."

Hermione said thoughtfully, "Maybe he likes it here, as a reminder of you."

Theo grinned. "Blaise took over Draco's old room. I wonder if he kept the mirrors on the ceiling as a reminder of Draco or for other reasons?"

Hermione looked disgusted. "Draco had mirrors on the ceiling of his bedroom? Why?"

"Why do you think?" Theo grin grew larger. "Do you want to go see?"

"Of course I want to see!" she shouted, grabbing his hand, and pulling him down the hallway, laughing. She leaned over the upstairs balustrade and shouted down two stories below, "Emergency Viper meeting in Draco's old bedroom! We must see the purpose of the mirrors on the ceiling! I have to judge whether Blaise is as perverse as Draco used to be!"

Blaise and Marcus stood in the downstairs foyer of what was now 'their' townhouse, little William in the pram between them. Blaise looked at Marcus and said, "I am. I might even be more perverse, or is the word '_perverser'_? It sounds as if Theo and the little cub are already in my bedroom. I might go up and join them, and give them a demonstration of just how perverse I can be." He smirked and raised one eyebrow.

Marcus sighed and said, "Could you try not to be a pervert, or is the word, '_perverter_' in front of your son?"

"That's the best time to be a pervert, because he's bound to be a bit too proper, growing up with Theo and the proper, little Gryffindor. Someone needs to set him a bad example! Come on, let's go corrupt them together, Viper style, to honour Adrian." Blaise smiled and ran up the stairs.

Marcus ambled up the stairs slower. Draco walked toward the stairs, with Greg behind him. "Where are you going?" he asked Marcus.

"Granger called an emergency Viper's meeting in your old bedroom," Marcus said with a smile. "She wants to examine the reason you used to have mirrors on your ceiling, and then discuss who is the bigger pervert, you or Blaise."

"Really?" Draco drawled. "Well, I can already answer that. I am, but of course. Still, we haven't had a Viper's meeting since Adrian died. Alright then." He pushed the baby's pram through the living room. "Potter, watch the kid for a while, will you. Don't make him into a self-righteous prig, if you don't mind." Draco started up the stairs, right behind Marcus; he turned back, just as he had out in the back garden. "Are you coming, Goyle?"

"But, I'm not a Viper," Greg said, confused

"You are now, because we have an opening," Draco smirked.

The heavy-set man ran up the stairs as quickly as he could.

~The End ~

* * *

_A/N – Someone had to die and it was Adrian, because he started it all, and he died for both Theo and Hermione. Oh, and the brown jumper died as well. The good news it that the cat lived. This was two chapters, but I decided to make it one, so I could just finally finish this story. I will be starting my new one, "Rules of Engagement" (a romantic comedy – with multiple characters) very soon. It will be posted on Fanfiction._

_Thank you all for seeing me through this one! So much happened to me during this story and it was quite a ride and I appreciated all the help and support I received during it. Thank you!_


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